


Diamondback

by TimmyJaybird



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Blood and Gore, Christian Imagery, F/F, Lesbian Sex, Scarring, Torture, dark!Stephanie, mentioned/implied Talia/Bruce, mentioned/implied Talia/Jason, mentioned/implied TimKon, mentioned/implied TimSteph
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-06-01 21:45:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 25,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6537424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimmyJaybird/pseuds/TimmyJaybird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stephanie Brown was dead- <i>until she wasn't</i>.</p><p>Fresh from the Pit, Stephanie has no memories of herself, of life, of the very existence of time. And while she works through the empty spaces, begins to recover from the side affects of the Lazarus Pit, she will have to question if who she once was is the same as the tattered woman she is now. If she can reconcile the two existences- and if she even wants to.</p><p>Or if perhaps, she has found something better, at the side of someone who finally has shown her a little faith.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I started this fic back in January, and left it dormant since then- and recently opened it, gave it a read through, and couldn't figure out why I'd ever stopped writing it.
> 
> I wanted to try something different, and I feel like this is a bit different from my usual fics. I also have a strange pension for Talia/Stephanie... and simply had to give it a shot.
> 
> If you're interested, this fic [has a playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/122762592/playlist/4f0xeniJlTTxApUUAtccH2) I blasted every time I sat down to write.

It was acid, in her lungs.

Sucking her down, down towards the bottom of _something_ , something that should have been endlessly. Clawing, her arms reached out, struck above her head, found nothing but the strangely warm liquid. It filled her nose, her throat, down into her lungs. Burned like acid, like chlorine was being forced into her every airway.

She opened her eyes- _or did she?_ \- but it was dark, black- and then the burning, the feeling of bleach in her eyes, sinking into her irises and taking hold with hooked feet. Her mouth opened to scream, to screech into the high heavens- but all that came was silence, her tongue floundering as the liquid rushed into her. Rushed in and burned and cleansed and _defined_ the crevices in her body. She thrashed again, out of instinct, struck by something-

Not terror, it didn’t grip her tight enough. Not even fear- the hands that seemed to grip at her throat, to choke the breath she so desperately needed from her lungs weren’t sharp enough for that. It was simply a sense of _wrong_ , as if this should not be.

Nothing should be.

_There should be only blackness_.

She grasped again, into the dark nothing, the heated liquid surely eating through her flesh now- and then there were hands, hands on her shoulders, her arms, hoisting her up. Up from the endless bowels of this pit, of this sucking darkness, up towards the surface-

And then breaking it, into the air.

She sucked in a breath, her head tossing back, eyes still squeezed shut. Air rushed her lungs, burned like molten fire, and she coughed, sucked in deep again, even when there was no room. She was dragged back, until her feet found something solid beneath them, and then she was tearing away from the hands on her, trying to open her eyes.

At first, there was nothing- a split screen of black and white, a tear in her soul, her very being. Her ears were ringing, _ringing_ an endless sound that she couldn’t pin-point, couldn’t identify.

Only when her vision began to take hold to lights, shapes, did she realize it was her own shrill, hoarse screeching.

She turned, grasping at the blurred shape of something next to her, pressing herself flush to it, still rib deep in the noxious liquid. It softened in her hand, mud and earth, and still she pressed closer, clinging desperately. She could see the brown tones taking shape, dark and nearly black- but half her world was shut out, her vision ending before it should have, as if her right side was still submerged in the water.

She coughed, choking up liquid from her lungs, let it dribble down her chin, before she sucked in another breath. It stung every fiber of her lungs, but it was a welcomed pain, as she blinked, trying to focus her vision again. She clutched tighter to the earth against her, trying to curl into it, before she could hear the rustling next to her- fabric shifting with the motion of a body, someone settling close to her-

A hand reaching out, brushing over her wet, matted hair. It stuck to her forehead and neck in knots. She lifted her head, glancing up- caught sight of a dark wrist, of gold dangling around it-

And then, a voice which she knew, somewhere, in the depths of _something_ in her. It sounded like the wind, like the air she breathed.

It sounded like salvation.

“You are alright,” it whispered, that hand working back, along the back of her head. Someone leaning over her now, the soft fabrics of her clothing brushing her cheek, as that hand cupped the back of her neck. “You are safe, _sughirati_.” She tipped her head back, looking up- and against the darkness, found a pair of eyes like jade, cut perfectly and swarming with the life of serpents, staring down at her with interest. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out, just a broken breath. She was hushed, before the woman pulled away- and the moment her touch was gone, she felt empty, _empty and aching_ , clutched tighter at the earthen wall and shook as her insides folded in, trying to find structure and support.

It was as if there was nothing inside her.

“Get her out.” The voice was far less calming, when spoken to others- and suddenly the hands were on her again, grasping her arms and hoisting her up. She thrashed- felt like the air was ice, and longed for the heat of the pool- longed for the acid kiss that tingled her skin, was surely eating her alive. She tore her arm away, fell with her chest pressed into the dirt, her legs and hips still in the water. The other hands on her pulled back, and there was an intrigued hum from the woman watching her.

She held her hand up, stilling the men around them- and when her head was raised, she couldn’t count how many. They seemed faceless, blurry, made her bit at her lip and want to look away. The air was falling on her naked body, made her shiver, and she dug her fingers, her nails into the mud.

“Leave her be,” the woman said, and she could feel those eyes on her, that jade like jeweled fire, taking in every fiber of her body, her _being_. She gritted her teeth, pulling herself up slowly. The movement in her arms and shoulders was electric, sparked pain in each nerve, and she bit at her cheek, until there was a taste in her mouth, replacing the putrid taste of the water in her mouth with salt, copper- sharp tastes that made her tongue crave more.

She pulled, giving a wordless cry as her hips lifted up onto the earth. She lifted a leg, got it over the ledge, hissing because it felt as if her hips might pop from their sockets, her limbs might simply peel from her body. Still, she dug her fingers in deeper, felt the mud caking under her nails, smelled it so close to her face- and pulled again. Her other leg pulled from the water, and she dug her knees into the mud, pushing up onto her hands until they were sliding in the mud.

It streaked her naked body, caked onto her cheek as she lifted her head, looking up through the line of darkness and the strands of matted hair.

The woman was looking at her, with the smallest tug of a smile on her dark lips.

She took a step toward her- another- as she wavered in her vision, glitching as if time was freezing and then resetting, until she was crouching down, reaching out to ghost finger tips over one cheek.

Warm, like soothing fire, like a hellpit- and she let her mouth fall open, a wordless plea for more there. For the heat, for the cold to end, for the agony in her bones to cease.

For the nothing to come back.

“You have done well,” she whispered, and her tone was soft again, cradling her aching mind and head. “Welcome back to us, Stephanie.”

The named rolled around in her head, banged her skull and left aching spots in her mind. _Stephanie_. That was someone, _she was someone_ , but it seemed so far away, whoever that was.

“Hold onto me.” That soothing voice again. The woman’s arms were offered, and she- _Stephanie_ \- reached up, grasped her filthy fingers onto them, onto the soft fabric draped there. The mud smeared, sunk in and stained, as the woman began to pull her up. Stephanie winced, her legs feeling lifeless, boneless- yet screaming with agony over the sudden use. She clutched tighter, tried to dig her nails in, but the woman kept that subtle curl to her lips. “Good,” she whispered, when Stephanie’s feet were firm in the mud, holding herself up. She bit at her raw cheek, got another drop of that copper-salt, before she began to teeter forward.

The woman didn’t stop her, as she collapsed against her chest- pressed her soiled, wet cheek into the soft cloth. She wanted to turn her entire face into it, to nuzzle it, cover her body with it- ask it to dull the ache, to soothe the raging needles inside her every vein.

The woman’s hands were on her arms, rubbing gently- not pushing her off, not seeming to care for the mud that now left her filthy as well.

“Cover her,” she said, in a voice far less calm, and there was something draping over Stephanie’s shoulders. It didn’t warm her like the pit, like the hell-maw she had been birthed in- but it cut off the chilling air, let the needles break and stab with only dull ends now. One of the hands on her arm moved to her hair, stroking it back, as Stephanie closed her eyes. “Hush now,” the woman whispered, as the world began to drown out, wash away in nothing but the hammering beat of a drum, beginning to fill Stephanie’s mind. “Hush now, pretty bird. You are with us once again.”

The words mulled around in her head, reason-less, meaningless- until they were gone, the world was gone- the air and the mud and the aches and the agony. Only the drum, beating against her ear, thumping out a rhythm that resonated through her entire body.

Until that too disappeared, and she was nothing, all over again.

*

When the nothing faded for a second time, there was nothing to pull Stephanie down into the core of that emptiness.

She inhaled sharply, jarred from her sudden lack of existence, her mouth opening. The air she sucked in wasn’t as cold, wasn’t _wet_. It didn’t taste of molding earth, or black mud and this sweet sort of rot. It was crisp and warm, though it caused her chest to hurt still.

She tipped her head back, taking another breath, her eyes fluttering open. The moment they did she was blinded, and she closed them again, grimacing against the light. Harsher than the darkness that had been around her, in the water, in the mud. Harsh and fresh and natural, didn’t flicker as if caused by a fire.

A third breath, aching less, and she eased her eyes open again, slowly. Kept them slitted, her blonde lashes blocking out the majority of the light, as she stared up at a high ceiling. Her hands rubbed against the softness beneath her- sheets, cotton- before her toes curled into them. The room flooded her with scents- soap lost in the fibers of the sheets and the pillows beneath her, the smell of sand and the air creeping in even though her window was closed. Her own sweat, the way it clung to her, the ghost of the mud, the stench of the pit matted in her hair.

Carefully, she forced herself to sit up. Her spine ached as if each vertebra were popping back into place, and she gritted her teeth against it, opening her eyes fully. Her world seemed smaller to her, and she frowned. She turned her head slowly, the muscles in her neck stretching, surveying the large room- heavy curtains, a deep red, a rug of brilliant colors that seemed to erupt from beneath the bed, stretch out in a circle to cover the polished wooden floors. Various objects she tried to name in her head, but the simple words took seconds longer than they should have to come up.

She tugged her blanket away, shifting and letting her legs dangle over the side of the bed. Her feet were bare, but someone had put a robe on her, seemed to have rubbed away most of the grime from the mud. But the scent was still there, and her skin still felt _dirty_. Carefully, she eased herself closer to the edge of the bed, until her feet pressed flat to the rug beneath her.

It was plush, and the softness, the texture, had her curling her toes into it. She sighed, gripped at the bed as she pushed herself up slowly. Her legs screamed at her to stop, but she pushed through it, forced the muscles to lock into place, to remember how to support her weight. For a moment she teetered, back and then forward, back again- before her balance stabilized, and she was standing. She curled her toes again, inhaled deep- it ached, but it was worth it, the way it brought clarity to her mind.

Carefully, she lifted her foot, took a small step. One, and then another, slowly making her way along the rug. When she reached the edge and her barefoot touched the polished wood floor, it was a rush of smoothness, warm from the sun at her window. She sighed, settled her other foot on it- paused to soak it in, to remember this. Somewhere in her mind, she knew how this felt.

It was a few more steps, before she was reaching out, running her fingers along the fabric. Heavy as it looked, but smooth, she toyed her fingers over it, began to push it aside, wanting to see the window. The action was thwarted when there was the sound of heavy movement behind her. Stephanie glanced over her shoulder, watched a large wooden door open, creaking on its old hinges-

That woman again, filling the space. Smiling at Stephanie. “You are up.”

Stephanie licked her lips, nodded. Didn’t know if her tongue could form words- if she truly _knew_ words. The woman walked into the room, let the door slowly swing shut behind her, walking around the rug, pausing near her.

She knew her, Stephanie _knew_ she knew her. In a different form- not this, not these free, thick waves, dark as an oak’s heart, not these eyes in their calm interest, in their subtle gentleness. Gentle wasn’t a word that seemed like it fit into memory.

She was in black, or had been, once. Her eyes had been wild and she had been _terrifying_ , and yet that emotion felt dull, as Stephanie remembered it. She was important, to someone, to multiple people, she had blood on her hands and someone else’s blood in her veins-

“Do you know who I am?” Stephanie said nothing, and the woman reached out, gently placed her hand on her shoulder. Through the fabric of Stephanie’s robe, she could feel the heat of it.

There was something, in her belly, boiling up her spine, into her brain. Something bubbling in her throat, a name, _a name_ , an identity and an existence and-

“Talia.” Her mouth moved slowly, her tongue clumsy, but the name took shape and left in the warm air. The woman’s smile was bemused, but not unbecoming.

“Good.” She reached up, gently touched Stephanie’s cheek now. Her fingertips were callused, had seen and touched many things. “You will remember everything in time. The pit- it’s sickness robs the body and mind. But you’ll recover and remember.”

Stephanie licked her lips again, hunted deep into the recesses of her mind for words, for what they meant, how to form them. “What,” she started, had to pause for a moment to pull the next up from her gut, “happened?”

Talia’s eyes looked sad for a moment. She let her hand fall from Stephanie, and with the loss of contact felt a loss of life, of heat, and everything was teetering towards dull again. “You died,” Talia said, flatly-

And Stephanie knew it wasn’t a _lie_. She opened her mouth, then closed it, couldn’t even think of the questions she wanted to ask. Couldn’t figure out how to communicate outside of her head and her body to this woman.

“We will speak of it another time,” Talia offered turning and walking away from Stephanie. “You have been asleep for nearly forty-eight hours. We should get you cleaned up, and perhaps see if your body can retain food yet.” She stopped at a rather ornate cut wooden door within the room, pushing it open and stepping into the bathroom. Stephanie didn’t follow, listened to the sound of sudden running water-

Heavy. Heavier than something inside her, which told her water was light, pelted against asphalt in dizzying patterns. That it could sprinkle her face and leave her cold, even when something clung to her like a second skin-

A _suit_ , and she wasn’t sure why her mind could supply that.

Talia appeared at the doorway again, beckoning Stephanie over. She moved slowly, listened to the occasional creak of wood beneath her feet, before she reached Talia. Talia slipped an arm behind her shoulders, eased her into the bathroom, steering her towards a metal tub. Stephanie looked at it, as Talia bent to turn the water off, and pushed her sleeves up. There was steam rising up from the water- and a scent filling the air, something Stephanie couldn’t place yet.

When Talia turned to her again, she reached for Stephanie’s robe, began working open the clasps hidden on her side, beneath a few folds of fabric. Stephanie watched, feeling detached, as it opened, as Talia eased it off her shoulders and let it pool to the ground. She was completely naked, beneath it, and the air settled on her, reminded her she felt like a layer of filth had followed her up, from the pool.

Talia offered her arm to Stephanie- but she ignored it, stepping into the bath on her own, missing the little smirk that flashed over the other woman’s face. She slowly settled down into the water- sighing because it was _warm_ in the most pleasing ways, and the scents rising from it-

“Sandalwood, rose,” Talia offered, kneeling down again. “You’re wondering what it smells like, and yet you cannot find the words.” Stephanie nodded, and Talia reached for a small glass bottle, twisting it open. “The words will come back. You will not be trapped inside your head forever, Stephanie. This I promise you.” She poured some of the liquid into her hand, before setting the bottle down and pushing at Stephanie’s shoulder. The blonde slid forward, leaned her head back until her hair was spread out among the water. Talia pressed it down with her free hand, before rubbing the liquid between her hands and working it into Stephanie’s hair.

It smelled stronger of rose, like the petals were being woven into Stephanie’s hair. She flashed to one, pressed beneath her nose- and she had been smiling, when it had happened. Someone had given it to her, had smiled back, had been _nervous_ and she could taste that, on her tongue. 

The memory was gone, as quickly as it came, as Talia worked her fingers over Stephanie’s scalp. The blonde nearly purred over it, the feeling of nails gently scratching skin, the press of her fingertips- it felt like the plush carpet, when she had curled her toes into it. Felt like the water when it had enveloped her body and warmed her.

“You feel good,” Talia offered, and Stephanie glanced at her. “You’re trying to connect feelings. I can see it in your eyes. _Good_ is what you’re looking for.” Stephanie opened her mouth, then closed it again, hated that there were questions yet she couldn’t find the words for them, couldn’t quite decide what she was trying to ask.

Talia rinsed her hair and her hands, and eased Stephanie backup. Her hair felt lighter now, clung to her in thick, wet locks as Talia began working some other liquid onto a cloth, before she began rubbing it along Stephanie’s shoulders. Stephanie lifted her arms to let Talia wash them, inclined her head when she noticed her skin was broken by thin, white scars. A glance at her shoulders showed heavier ones. She furrowed her brow, reaching up to touch one, feeling the different texture to her skin.

And then, without a knowing reason why, Stephanie lifted her wet hand towards her face.

“Do not,” Talia said, glancing at her- but not reaching to stop. Stephanie didn’t listen, noticed that when her hand came close to her face it suddenly was _gone_ , before it should have been. She touched her cheek, felt up and felt that same rough texture. She traced it up, closed her eyes, felt it over her eye, traveling up to her forehead.

When she opened them again, Talia was looking at her.

“You lost a lot, before you died,” she offered, despite her words that they would discuss it at another time. “You have scars from many years, _tayir jamil_. You gained new ones, right before your death.” She abandoned the cloth in the water, reached up and pressed her wet, warm hand to Stephanie’s cheek, rubbed her thumb along the tip of a scar.

“See,” Stephanie whispered, the word hissing out between her teeth. Talia sighed.

“I will show you, but allow me to finish. The pit leaves one… filthy. You will be thankful for this.” She pulled from Stephanie’s face, grabbed the cloth and began rubbing it along her sides, her legs. Stephanie had to turn for Talia to clean her back, and she _felt_ the woman’s hesitation, before touching her.

When it was done Talia offered her hand to Stephanie, who ignored it again, gripped the sides of the tub and stood herself. Her legs burned, but it was tolerable- they no longer felt like they would cave, beneath her. She stepped out, ignored Talia as the woman opened the tub’s drain, and walked across the room, towards a large sink.

She gripped it, leaning over it, naked and dripping wet, staring into the mirror that was fastened to the wall.

What stared back was a woman, one she knew and didn’t know. One with a single gorgeous blue eye, laced now with green veins, like thousands of tiny parasites squirmed within her iris. And the other- it was completely clouded,the whites broken by a few dark veins. Completely _dead_ , accompanied by a long scar, trailing down most of her cheek, and up, over the dead eye.

This was why part of her world was black now.

“You could have waited to see,” Talia offered, turning around. “This could all wait, until your mind has fully recovered.”

“ _No_.” The word came out heavy, but Stephanie knew what it meant. She reached out with one hand, traced the shape of her dead eye, her wet hair sticking to her forehead, her cheeks and neck. She glanced away from the mirror, to look down at her body, to see so many scars- couldn’t reconcile all of them with these memories that felt just out of reach.

Talia sighed, stepping behind her, reaching out to gather up her wet hair. She gently pushed it from her cheeks, gathered it all over one shoulder. “The pit does not _always_ heal everything. You were in what is known as a run off, the remains of my father’s favorite. It is… diluted. Your eye could not be saved- nor your scars, removed. But you breathe again, and that was the required arrangement.”

Stephanie narrowed her eyes. _Arrangement_. Someone had… done something. Something they shouldn’t. She shouldn’t be here, she knew that much. The mention of father, it brought up a name-

“Ra’s.”

Talia nodded. “You are making connections far faster than I expected. I thought I might not get a word out of you for weeks.” She leaned in, and when she spoke, her breath was a ghost, against Stephanie’s ear. “My, but you are exceptional.”

She shivered. She didn’t know _why_.

“He is my father,” Talia reminded her, “You know him, you know of him, and you will know far more than you _wish to_ , now that you are here. It was not… not the ideal outcome, when the deal was made.”

Stephanie continued to stare at herself. Deal, arrangement- someone had bargained for her life. Someone had loved her enough to bring her back from death’s cooling embrace. Someone had loved her enough to bring her _here_ -

Here that felt so far from where she should be.

She closed her eyes for a moment, could feel something- the untangling and re-knitting in her mind. A name, a face- the same smile when she had smelled the rose, the same flush to cheeks, the same pretty eyes. Something that had once made her heart flutter wildly, in her chest. Something that had once made her laugh. Something, someone that-

That had loved her.

“Tim.” The name fell from her mouth, and her eyes shot open, her mind flashing endless glimpses, fragments of life. Sitting on a playground swing dressed in purples and blacks, twisting herself while he smiled at her. He had a mask, he wore blacks and reds and bits of green. He was happy.

The green was gone, he was sad, _lost_.

The smile was back, and his hands were in her hair, on her neck. She had her nails in his skin- she felt scars. She felt them rough as his tongue dragged on her pulse. They were content.

Sad, again, and he was gone, _gone_. Sad and then content and then _happy_ , and he smiled at her and he laughed like the moon was in her hair-

He had loved her. She had loved him. _Had_.

“You are remembering,” Talia offered. “ _Fascinating_. Timothy Drake- he was the one who brought you here. He was the one who gave your body to my father, who exchanged hope for the Demon’s Head for your renewed life.”

Stephanie bit at her lip. Something didn’t fit- “Tim… Ra’s…” she gritted her teeth, and then, where the words came from she didn’t know, but she blurted out loudly, “ _Tim hates Ra’s_.”

Talia’s eyes widened, before she laughed. It was sharp, but Stephanie still liked it. “Perhaps we _do_ need to do this now. Yes, your Timothy is not a fan of my father- but there are many people like that. However, losing someone you love, it will do things to you. It will make you desperate.”

Stephanie knew somewhere, that Tim had been desperate before. Many times- that many people had left him. And now, she was one of them.

There was a dull ache, in Stephanie’s chest over it. A dull ache that should have blossomed to agony- and yet it pulsed as merely a half formed worm, slithering between forgotten ribs. It didn’t touch her heart.

“Let’s get you dressed,” Talia offered, gently trying to turn Stephanie from the mirror. “Let’s see if you can eat something. There will be more time for this.”

Stephanie hesitated, before turning slowly, glancing back and catching a glimpse of something, along her back. Something heavy and thick, breaking her skin, scars she had no recollection of- and then it was gone, as she followed Talia away. She felt as if she had eons, and yet merely seconds, to piece together fragments stabbed into her skull that throbbed with possibility- except each was just out of reach, embedded just too far for her to pull free.

*

Talia had left Stephanie in her room, seated at a small table, meant for only two, off away from the large window. In the time she was gone, Stephanie rubbed her fingers along her scar, closed her eye to notice that nothing changed at all- she truly couldn’t see out of it.

As she touched it, she grasped at her new robes, pulling them up to stick her leg out, examine her calf. It had a littering of scars, some so old they were barely visible. At least one was a pucker of pale and pink flesh, and in her mind a speeding piece of metal with the name _bullet_ appeared.

She was still touching her facial scar when Talia reappeared. She was carrying a very small tray, with only three items- a tall, clear glass, a small bowl, and a spoon. She set them in front of Stephanie, who stared down at it for a moment, her hand falling from her face.

“Do you-” Talia started, but Stephanie was reaching for the spoon, lifting it. In her head the utensil had a name, and she gripped just as she always had. Talia smiled. “Nevermind. You may not feel hungry, but I am sure once you eat, you will be starving.”

Stephanie looked at the watery liquid, before she carefully spooned some of it into her mouth. Her tongue came to life, ached for a moment as it was flooded with sensation, as taste became fully functioning again. It was earthy, but not like the mud she had dragged herself through. Earthy with a hint of something else, things she was having trouble placing but he knew.

“It is simply vegetables,” Talia told her, watching as she spooned more into her mouth. “Broth will be easiest for your stomach. Your body is relearning how to live, pretty bird. It will take time.”

Stephanie felt her stomach turning in on itself, and paused for a moment. But the sensation turned to craving, and she realized she was _hungry_ , as the broth settled in her stomach. She leaned closer, continued to eat, as Talia walked around the room, giving her space to breathe, to lose herself in the rush of flavors.

She could taste everything now, like she swore she never could.

“You are recovering far faster than I expected,” Talia admitted, pausing at the window and pushing the curtain aside. She stared out it, missed Stephanie sloshing some of the broth onto her chin, having to pause to wipe it on the back of her hand. She felt a little clumsy, and the hunger was beginning to cloud her. “Than anyone _anticipated_. I am sure in a very short time, you will feel like your old self again.” She glanced over, as Stephanie set the spoon down, looked at the glass of water. “That is for you as well. I cannot have you turning to dust on me. Not yet- not when there is so much to do.”

Stephanie reached for it. It was cold against her palm, and she held it with both hands, pressing it to her mouth and tipping it, taking a drink. The water hurt her teeth, her tongue- made her throat feel as if it was closing from the cold. But she was _thirsty_ , and she fought through it, swallowed down the whole glass and inhaled deeply as she set it down on the tray.

Behind her, Talia was smiling. “You remind me of someone,” she offered, as Stephanie picked the spoon up again. “Of many people.” She pulled herself from the window, walked back and stood behind Stephanie. She rested her hands on Stephanie’s shoulders, squeezing gently. Through the fabric of her robe, Stephanie could feel her nails, the way they pressed into her skin.

It was like a bird of prey, clutching at it’s catch- like talons, like fangs, spearing into her flesh. And yet- Stephanie found it calming, grounding. Felt as if she was truly inside herself, with Talia’s touch.

“You will be something great,” she offered, leaning down, breathing it into Stephanie’s damp hair, against her ear. Talia smelled like something, like the sandalwood from the bath, and something else beneath it. Not the rose, no, but a fresh sort of floral that Stephanie could not place. “Given time, you will see. I have faith in you, Stephanie.”

Another squeeze to her shoulders, and Talia was pulling away, leaving Stephanie with the ghost of it, as she moved back towards the window. Stephanie inhaled slowly, before she gave back into the gnawing in her belly, and picked her spoon up again. At least the hunger was a feeling, was her body waking up slowly, finding itself again.

At least hunger meant she was alive.

*

Days came and went in a blur of old sensations that had become new. Stephanie memorized the feeling of her rugs, beneath her bed. The feeling of water, running over her hands in the sink. The texture of her scars, everyone that she could touch, under her fingertips.

Talia was there in the morning, waking her. Sometimes there were men or women with her, sometimes she was speaking to them in a language Stephanie didn’t understand. But she had heard it, somewhere on a different tongue, in a different voice, she had heard those words.

Talia spoke with her. She reminded her of words, and whenever Stephanie thought of one and blurted it out, she only smiled and would nod. She did not speak of the pit again, she did not speak of whoever _Tim_ was, whatever he had once been to Stephanie.

And after three days of simply stretching and pacing a large room, of sleeping at odd hours and learning words she swore she somehow knew- Talia took Stephanie outside.

The hallway outside Stephanie’s room was stone, was a different sound on her now sandaled feet. She listened to the noise each of her and Talia’s steps made, filing it away. Today Talia had come to her alone, and Stephanie was glad for it. She preferred when it was just Talia looking at her, speaking with her. The others never said a word to her, only to each other, and short, direct responses to Talia that Stephanie never understood.

Hallways stretched down stairs- and then suddenly there were large, open spaces- pillars of stone instead of walls, and Stephanie could see sand, could see patches of earth and greenery. She stared, happy to pause when Talia did, placing her hands on her hips and following Stephanie’s gaze.

She was eyeing a patch of green, against the warm, strong sun, and the sands. Looking at the rocks that broke it off like a barricade, at the colors that seemed to blossom there.

“Go on,” Talia offered, and Stephanie glanced back at her, before taking her word. She stepped down off the stone, her sandals moving over sand now- a new flood of textures, the way it scratched at her ankles when it was kicked up. The way she felt she moved slower in it. Different from something, in the recesses of her mind-

Concrete, asphalt. Rooftops and brick. A rush of memories that had her pausing for a moment, tightening her fists, digging her nails into her palms to ground herself as they swept over her, consumed her for a moment.

Exhaust, the stench of it. From traffic, from their bikes- mixing with rain, with gutter water. Asphalt turning black in the wet moonlight. Her suit losing its heat, turning to cold as she moved to keep her body temperature up. The way the city echoed noises, noises with no source, with every source, loud and never ending-

She pulled herself back, heard Talia moving in the sand behind her. A hand pressed to the small of her back. “You are remembering,” she offered. It wasn’t a question. Days of this, of flashes of sensations, of bursts of words, memories of feelings that coiled inside her but she only felt through a thick film, a layer of plastic to keep them contained.

“Yes,” she managed, nodding. Talia smiled over her speech- each day gave her another tool to get out of her head-

To understand the space she was stuck within.

“Tell me,” Talia urged, guiding her the last few steps. They stepped up, onto stone, took the few steps to the small garden. Stephenie settled on it, let her feet hang over, her toes dragging along the sand.

“City,” she offered, “Sounds, noises. Loud, from nowhere. Everywhere.” Talia settled next to her- and they were not looking at the colors that had drawn Stephanie in, but at the desert, stretching out in front of them. “Smoke...no.” She paused, sucked on her tongue, tried to find the word. “ _Exhaust_.”

“From the traffic, yes. Your city stank of it.” Talia leaned her elbows onto her thighs. “What else?”

“Rain… cold. Moving to… keep warm.” Stephanie’s jaw ached. It was hard, to form so many words, to drag them up and make them fit. “Hard things. Brick.”

Talia smiled. “You remember so much. The words will be easy enough soon.” She sighed, took a final glance at the desert in front of them, before shifting, pulling one leg up and pressing a hand to Stephanie’s thigh. Through the fabric of her clothing, she felt its heat.

She liked Talia’s fire.

“What drew you here?” Talia asked, gesturing to their side. Stephanie glanced back at the garden around them, the bursts of flowers, of green.

“Color,” Stephanie offered, and Talia smiled.

“The color is extraordinary. Even my father cannot deny that we need beauty around us here. These little gardens are perfect for meditation. When I was a girl, I used to sneak from my lessons and hide among the plants my father kept within the halls. Ra’s has always liked a well ordered, beautiful space to inhabit. When you live as long as he does, you _have_ to have something beautiful around you.” Talia paused, glancing back at Stephanie, before turning back to the plants. “I would sit behind them for hours in pure silence, stilling my breathing and my thoughts. I was restful, there was no anxiety- I only later found that my father always knew where I was, but he allowed it because my own discovery of meditation was far better than any a teacher could instruct me to.”

Talia smiled softly, and it eased her face. Stephanie studied that instead, the subtle lines to her eyes and the color of her irises, which had no match- except one, in her memory.

“I believe I passed on that rebelliousness,” Talia offered, and Stephanie couldn’t be sure what made her say it, but she sucked on her tongue a moment, before offering up,

“Damian.”

Talia turned to Stephanie. “You remember my son?”

“Name,” Stephanie said, and when lifting one hand, she pointed to Talia’s face. “ _Eyes_.”

Talia smiled- sad. “Yes, Damian has my eyes. He has far too much of me. He used to run from his lessons too, unless I was personally present. Bored so easily, his mind was too quick for what he was being given. I would find him sitting in any of the gardens here, lost in meditation. And when I would ask him what he was learning out here, he would simply tell me _himself_.” Talia laced her fingers together, staring down at them. “There is so much to learn in that boy- how could I ever deny him that?”

Something inside Stephanie was tugging, an emotion half felt. It was a sadness, but it should have ached more, she was sure- somehow she was. Yet it was mild discomfort, a feeling that she would fix this sadness in Talia, if he could- but that both women would move on past it.

“You know him very well,” Talia added, glancing at Stephanie. “You worked with him, before you were given to my father. You have known my son for years now.” Stephanie said nothing to that, and Talia was pushing herself up then, offering a hand to Stephanie. “Come, there is still much I would like to show you. And the exercise will be good.”

This time, Stephanie took her hand, allowed Talia to help her up, guiding her back into the sands.

They moved back into the compound, walking it’s winding hallways, until Talia took Stephanie to the center. It was a large open space- and what Stephanie found was a group, men and women alike, all moving in perfect sync with a sword, following the instruct of a man at their head.

“We train all over the grounds,” Talia offered, “But our privileged students- those with promise, come to the heart daily for lessons.” Talia pointed at the instructor. “He has been with my father since he was a child of six. He is younger than you.”

Stephanie bit her cheek for a moment, and then croaked out, “How old am I?”

It was a full, complete sentence. Something she had barely formed, yet. Talia looked at her, before she smiled softly.

“You are twenty three,” she offered, “He is three years your younger. But I believe there was a time you would have proved his better.”

Stephanie tried to compute the numbers in her head, tried to measure a year- but she couldn’t pull the times together, had so little to judge it against. She only had days now, and so much was a blur, before she had woken up in the pit. Still too unclear.

“And there is a time to judge that.” The voice broke Stephanie’s thoughts, jarred a sudden string of memories, blurs of blood in her mouth, of agony on a handsome man’s face she could not quite place- and when she turned, his eyes mirrored Talia’s, mirrored the ones in her memory she had given to someone named _Damian_.

This man watched Stephanie with keen, interested eyes. His hair was white, but it did not help betray an age- a mix of an eternal youth and something that had seen too many years- too many things she could not measure. The movement of the training class ceased, and Talia was taking a half step in front of Stephanie.

“Father-”

“I believe now is ideal,” he offered, glancing over at the instructor. He motioned him with his fingers, and the man walked over, gave a respectful bow to his master, his sword held loosely at his side. “Without the steel. She is fresh from the pit.”

Stephanie watched as it was stabbed into the ground. In front of her, Talia tensed.

“Father, I implore you-”

The man waved her off, and Talia sighed, stepping aside- looking at Stephanie, mouthing something. Something that Stephanie had trouble making out.

It took a moment, but- _I believe in you_.

How did one believe in anything?

Stephanie wanted to mull it over, but footsteps, running footsteps, pulled her back to her body. She turned, and without a thought she raised her arm, blocked a hit the man tried to deliver to her. He looked stunned, easing back- and Stephanie moved as if she did not need to think. A step in towards her, and he barely blocked the blow she tried to deliver with her fist.

Her body remembered, it remembered things her mind did not. Stephanie felt as if she was pulling out of her body, as if it moved without her bidding. Like she could separate completely, float above herself and look down, see her muscle move in perfect memory of years of training and execution.

He tried to kick her feet out from beneath her, but she allowed herself to fall- and flipped herself up, tumbling once and then standing. Her lips twitched, and she felt them curve, in a way they had not yet.

It was a smile. It _wasn’t_ a muscle memory.

The man stared at her, and Stephanie wasn’t aware of all the eyes on her, she was only aware of seeing herself move, of this man racing towards her, how she side stepped him, grasped his arm and jerked it back, pulling him to a stop. Muscles pulled in his body as she held him still, before turning on her heels, shoving him down onto the ground. He landed, and she stepped over him, pressed her foot between his shoulder blades, holding him down.

She dug her foot in, felt his breath rushing out- and when he tried to inhale, it was labored, her weight threatening his ribs if she were to give in, to cross that threshold-

A sharp _clap_ broke her concentration, and she was inside herself again. She glanced up, and the original man, the ageless elder, he was grinning at her- teeth that were impossibly sharp. Eyes stained with green, something like the veins in her own irises. More pronounced.

“Thrilling,” he offered, and motioned for her to come closer. Stephanie pulled off the man, walking towards him, inclining her head gently to study him. “Tell me child, do you know me?”

“Ra’s,” she said, a name suddenly, remembered from before, that she had spoken to Talia- connected with the word _father_. Connected with the slew of jade eyes in her head- and the sad smile of someone that made the half formed worm of agony in her chest writhe.

He kept his amused grin. “She is coming along well,” he said, glancing at Talia, who had moved up to her side. “She is making connections, I see.”

“Yes father,” Talia offered, “She is remembering far faster than we expected.”

“That leaves no reason for us to consider our first plan, then,” he said, glancing back to Stephanie. “She will not go back to the young detective a husk.” He reached out to Stephanie, grasped her chin, squeezing her cheeks. His nails were long, sharp- sharper than Talia’s. “Tell me child, what do you feel?”

“Feel?” He nodded, and Stephanie frowned, confused. “You,” she finally said, thinking of his hand on her face.

He chuckled- he actually chuckled. “No child, not in body.” His other hand reached out, a nail dragging below her collarbone, along the fabric of her flowing robe, against the space between her breasts. “Here.”

Stephanie hesitated, thinking to the hollows of her body, to the half feelings she attained, the ghosts of emotions that felt so far away. And finally, “nothing,” left her mouth, and Ra’s’ smile only grew. He pulled away from her, reaching out to grasp at his daughter’s shoulder.

“You know what to do with her,” he offered, squeezing. Stephanie knew his nails dug into Talia’s shoulder. Talia nodded. “Than let it be done.” He pulled back, moved to leave them, before he paused and glanced back, at the space where Stephanie’s combat opponent had fell. “And I will see her training tomorrow at dawn,” he added, “Her mind my not remember, but her body does. Let us not waste time- it is so precious.”

He left them without another word, and Stephanie watched him go- all too aware of Talia at her side, of the fact that she had tensed, as if something was wrong. Stephanie couldn’t be sure if it had been her father’s presence, this mention of _plans_ -

Or if Stephanie had alarmed her, with how her body had never forgotten how to truly live.

*

Once back in her room that night, alone again- Stephanie paced. She had removed the sandals she’d worn, preferred the feeling of the hard floor and the plush rug beneath her bare feet. It was a sensation to grasp onto.

Talia had mentioned plans- agreements. Talia spoke as if Stephanie had been bargained for- her _life_ had been bargained for. And Ra’s- the way he had curtly instructed Talia- there was something there, something Stephanie did not know.

Something she desperately wanted to understand.

She walked over to the window, tore open the curtains and pressed both her hands flat to the grass. Outside it had fallen dark- the sky lit up with tiny pinpricks from the stars, cast over a deep blue velvet, near black. The sky looked different than what she _thought_ she knew-

And for a moment, she saw skylines filled with buildings, skyscrapers- lights and the haze and smog of industry- and the few breaks where the sky _was_ just like this, if you looked hard enough.

Stephanie closed her eyes, wanted to remember- wanted to know this person, who she had been. She leaned forward, pressed her forehead to the glass, felt the chill of it. Somewhere in there, was a life she had once had.

She sucked on her tongue, could taste the broth Talia had once again fed her. Too afraid her body would reject solid food, in it’s healing state. Stephanie didn’t care- she had so few tastes to remember, to compare anything to- and what she was given, it wasn’t _bad_.

“Ra’s,” she whispered. “Talia. Damian.” The names, rolling off her tongue, trying to piece them all together. “Stephanie. Tim.”

There were others, in her mind. Ones that made no sense- _birds_ , a robin with a brilliant red chest, a bat that screeched agony into her skull. She grimaced, squeezed her eyes tighter- and why did she feel like that bird was her? That bat was her?

Brilliant and screaming.

She pulled back, leaving the window and going to her bed. She pulled the blankets back, crawling in and pressing her face into the pillow, curling up on her side. It smelled like the rose Talia had washed her hair with- but not whatever scent clung to the other woman. That was what Stephanie wanted to sleep to- the feeling that Talia was there, watching her.

Whatever had been done to get her here, Stephanie felt _safe_ with this woman here. With the woman who had touched her so softly, when the pit had birthed her again.

The woman with a mother’s eyes.

She sighed, let her eyes fall shut, whispering the names over again, to herself. _Ra’s, Talia, Damian, Stephanie, Tim._. A slow inhale. _Ra’s, Talia, Damian, Stephanie, Tim_.

And then, as she was drifting, it simply became, _robin, bat_ over and over again, until her tongue felt as if the words had always been there, and she was embracing the nothing that was sleep.

*

The air was cool, early morning giving Stephanie and the bodies around her a reprieve from the hot sun, come midday. She was barefoot, could feel dew on the grass that had been grown at the heart of the compound.

In front of her, in front of the men and women around her, Talia stood. Her thick waves had been pulled back, and as she spoke, she demonstrated movements with a sword she gripped loosely in her hand. Loosely as if she _knew_ she could not drop it.

Stephanie had one, strapped to her back. The leather cut across her chest, between her breasts- rubbed against her sternum before it hit the fabric of her shirt. Absent mindedly, she reached up, pressed it harder to her skin, enjoying the feeling of a new sensation.

Something told her leather, fabrics like this, had touched her skin many times before.

“You will follow my every movement,” Talia announced, “Draw your weapons.” Stephanie reached up, pulled her sword free- the rush of the metal freeing itself from the sheath filled her head. She gripped it tightly, holding it as Talia did- swinging in a motion just as the woman did, as the men and women around her.

The warm up could have dragged on for hours, and Stephanie would have been pleased. She enjoyed the way her body moved- it still ached, when she found a new angle to stretch to- but it felt good- and she could drift, could lift free from herself as her muscles remembered. She could focus on Talia, and the way she moved in the same detached, practiced manner.

When it concluded, Talia walked among her students, breaking them apart. “Sparring,” she offered, “against your fellow students- the best of what the league will offer one day- will prepare you for anything you see out there.” She paused at Stephanie, studying her for a moment, before she added, “I want no blood shed- you must learn to control your motions. You must learn to _obey_.”

Stephanie looked at the woman she had been paired with. She was being studied by a pair of dark eyes, pretty eyes- as if this woman wanted Stephanie to move first.

Something in Stephanie told her to wait- that she had been taught to _wait_. Patience- by a woman with red hair that she couldn’t place. 

The woman finally charged, and Stephanie stepped out of the way. She raised her sword, let it ring against the other, before pulling back and striking out. The woman jumped back, avoiding Stephanie’s blow, only to come at her full force. Stephanie blocked, side stepped, blocked again.

Her body remembered everything- endless routines of combat training, suffering and agony to bring herself to top conditioning- and she felt almost asleep, as she moved now. Her muscles sang with sharp needle pains, but it was welcomed-

It was a feeling, even if it evoked little emotion in her.

She wasn’t sure how long it lasted, but when Talia commanded her student to cease, Stephanie froze on command, lowering her weapon.

The woman was looking at her- and Talia, she was smiling.

*

“Lessons with the group will serve you little purpose,” Talia offered, once the sun had risen high for midday. She and Stephanie were walking the open halls of the compound, enjoying the warm breeze filtering in- but escaping the hot sun. “You are beyond them, pretty bird.”

Stephanie wasn’t looking at Talia- she was studying the sand, as it moved outside. But she was _listening_.

“I would like you to work one on one with our more talented trainers,” Talia offered, “Hand picked by me. I have my students who desperately need me back- so I cannot watch your every lesson. But I have faith you do not need me there.” She stopped, and Stephanie glanced over at her. Without being provoked, Talia added, “I will not cease my time with you though.”

Stephanie let her lips curve into what might have been a half smile. It felt foreign, but she allowed it. “Good,” she offered- and the word felt less foreign than the movement of her lips.

Talia smiled. “And how are you, today? I did not ask, when you joined my students.”

Stephanie thought the question over, search for the words she was beginning to remember. “Good,” she echoed again, even as she reached up, pressed her fingertips to the scar on her face. Talia frowned, reached out and knocked her fingertips away, replacing them with her own.

“Does this bother you?” she asked- and Stephanie thought to the sudden restricted vision, to the dead look in her one eye, when she stared into the mirror. She thought to the break in her skin.

“No,” she finally offered. It didn’t- because it was all she knew. She didn’t remember her face, before. It was a blur.

Talia’s smile returned. “Good. Our scars are badges of honor, little bird.” She dragged her fingertips up, and Stephanie closed her eyes- released a breath as they ghosted over her eyelid, only opening when they pressed to the tip of the scar, on her forehead. “Wearing them proves you did not run in the face of fear.”

_Fear_. Stephanie knew it, somewhere in here. Knew the emotion, but it was clouded, diluted. Dull.

“You,” she started, before licking her lips, “have scars?”

Talia nodded. She reached for Stephanie’s hand, took it- and uncaring that they were in the open, pushed the collar of her shirt towards her shoulder. There was one, thick and heavy, over her collarbone. She pressed Stephanie’s hand to it.

“Many,” Talia offered. “I am riddled with them. I do not bathe in the Lazarus Pit as my father does- and mine remain to tell stories.” Stephanie stroked the scar, liking the rough feel beneath her fingertips. “The best of us have them. My son has many he cannot show.” Stephanie didn’t say the name, but she knew it again. “I have many I will not show.”

Stephanie nodded, still stroking. Her fingers slid off the scar, to just skin- and Talia was so warm. This close, Stephanie could smell her skin, something sweet and fresh in her hair. She leaned closer, wanted to bury her face in it, wanted Talia to touch her again. It soothed the pulsing agony in her bones, when Talia put her hands on her.

But she pulled away instead, guiding Stephanie’s hand back to her side. “Come,” Talia offered, turning away. “I would like to introduce you to those I have in mind for your training.”

Stephanie said nothing and followed- but all the while, that scent was stuck inside her head- and the feeling of Talia’s skin was beneath her fingertips.

*

Stephanie’s days blurred, once her personal training began. The men and women Talia gave her to pushed her body to remember everything it had ever been taught- and her mind, to catch up. Still, she found she drifted, until she would fumble, would get a fist to her jaw, and taste blood on her tongue. Then she would be right back in her body, and there was a dulled sort of joy, when she retaliated- when she hit back and saw a flash of pain, in her teachers’ eyes.

More words fell from her mouth, with each day. Sentences stringing together. She still listened, more than she spoke. She listened to every word Talia said, when she was with her. She listened when she walked the halls, even though the words many spoke around her were in a tongue she did not know.

She listened to her teachers, when they spoke.

And, most often, she listened to herself. She spoke words she remembered, when alone in her room. She recited names that had no faces, words that were mundane, _chair_ , _good_ , _scar_. Every time her mind thought of a new one, she spoke it, tasted it on her tongue and rolled it around.

And each night, she put herself to sleep, chanting the same names. Chanting words, when the names became dull- but always ending with _robin_ and _bat_.

Until she saw them.

Until she _was_ them, first a spectre of purple, rising up from the wet, ashen earth. She lifted her hands, studied them- could see through her translucent skin, down to the bone. She was naked except for wisps of violet, threading into her hair, sliding along her body in ever-movement. She studied the bones, looked at the cracks from breaks that had healed, seeing the scars beneath her.

The earth beneath her was sodden, smelled rancid- and she realized it was pit-mud, was soaked with the runoff of the Lazarus pit she had been in. She knelt down, let her knees sink into it, before reaching out, pressing her palms to it. It was warm, like the water had been- made her skin tingle. When she lifted her hands up, they were caked with it.

She was soiled, _spoiled_ , someone was telling her. A voice she knew, knew somewhere inside her. She reached up, pressed her filthy palms to her naked body, and that voice was whispering into her hair-

_Every spot I ever touched you_.

She closed her eyes, pressed her fingertips all along her body- smeared the mud along her collarbone and shoulders- grasped her breasts and dared to dig her nails in. She pushed them down her belly, between her thighs, then over the heavy muscles, to her hips. By the time she tried to reach for her back, her hands were nearly dry.

She simply dug into the rancid earth for more. Once her hands were caked with it again, she tried to claw at her own back- felt large, heavy breaks in her skin that _shouldn’t be there_ , was unsure how she knew-

She chased the thought away, reached up to smear the mud along her face, back into her hair. The voice was back, whispering wordlessly, until finally, it was saying, over and over again, _spoiled, spoiled, spoiled_.

Stephanie opened her mouth- but all that came out was a rush of wind, and she was suddenly falling, _falling_. The sodden earth was gone and she could see hard asphalt, rushing towards her. She spread her arms out, mouth open to scream, when suddenly the motion caught her as she flailed, pushed hair down and paused her descent.

She moved her arms again, almost as if she was swimming through the pit- and the ground grew further away. She tried to glance at herself, saw feathers stemming from her arms. She glanced at her chest- and the purple wisps were gone. Her chest was painted red, startlingly so. She glanced at her arms again- saw the feathers were green, yellow-

And above her, someone was calling, _robin, robin!_ She turned up, found so many bodies above her, watching. So many eyes.

And in that moment, faces flashed before her. Hard dark eyes and gorgeous crystalline, birds and bats, voices screaming names that _weren’t_ names, and underneath that chanting names that _were_. Her skull began to throb, and she reached up, digging her hands into her hair, yanking and pulling-

Until she was falling again. As she fell, her feathers molted away, until when she stretched her arms it was skin, that attached them to her body. A thin webbing over it. She turned to her back, stared up at the bodies above her, as she rushed down-

As she sank, once again, into sodden earth, smelling of rancid meat, of innards and the bowels of death. She clawed at it, felt it opening up, slowly swallowing her down. The bodies above her were suddenly around her, staring down, _watching_. So many faces, masked, hard eyes hidden with lenses, names that meant nothing and everything-

_Batman, Nightwing, Oracle_ -

And then suddenly her vision glitched, reality skipped, and the masks were gone-

_Bruce, Dick, Barbara_ -

And more, flooding her, filling her with names and stories and hands that did not reach for her, even as she screamed and clawed-

Until the Earth had swallowed her down, and she was inhaling the heated, fetid water of the pit again.

*

Stephanie’s eyes flew open, and her mouth gaped, a scream caught in her throat. She grasped at the sheets beneath her- found softness, not the giving filth of the pit. Her body was so tense it ached, and her head was throbbing. She sat up, reaching up to grasp at it, groaning as it felt like her entire brain was being pulled apart, knitting back together. She gritted her teeth- until she was screaming, wordlessly-

And all the names, the faces, the memories, they were suffocating her, pressing her lungs into her ribs, piercing them until there was no air- and her scream was silent agony.

She was digging her nails into her temples, when the door to her room suddenly opened. She didn’t look, didn’t study the light filtering in, breaking the dark- and through her renewed screaming, she smelled something subtle, a flower fresh and softly sweet-

Talia’s hands were on her, pulling her towards her, into her arms. Stephanie fell, trembling, tears rolling down her cheeks as her head continued to ache as if she was dying, as if someone was stuffing her head with thick, electric cotton, dosing it in acid, waiting for her skull to rupture. She felt Talia’s hand on her back, in her hair, stroking- whispering to her in a language she didn’t know-

And her mind supplied her with _Arabic_ , and she remembered Damian speaking it-

She remembered his _face_. Knew he was Robin, had been for quite some years- knew what a _year_ was-

“Little bird,” Talia breathed, still cradling her. “Stephanie, come back to me.” Stephanie bit at her lip, bit until it was raw and tasted blood, before she finally eased her hands from her forehead, the skin stinging where her nails had punctured it. They fell limp to her lap, and Talia rocked her softly- as if she was a small child. As if Talia was her mother. “I have you.” Stephanie began to relax, the agony subsiding, as her mind truly came to clarity, to it’s woken state-

“Talia,” she whispered, glancing up and meeting the woman’s gaze. “Talia Al Ghul.” Talia’s face dropped, her eyes growing serious. “I’m Stephanie Brown,” she whispered, “Spoiler, Robin, _Batgirl_. And I’m dead.”

She remembered. She remembered _everything_.

And yet, Talia continued to hold her, guiding her head back to her chest. Stephanie didn’t fight it, pressed her cheek against the fabric of her clothing, and listened to the perfectly timed beat of her heart, could smell Talia’s hair again-

Could smell lilac.

*

She moved in a whirlwind, through the hallways. Talia was moving behind her, speaking, telling her to wait, to _stop_ -

Stephanie _couldn’t_.

She knew where she was going, had worked out the layout of chambers within this compound, simply by _watching_. Her feet carried her to a large door- which was shockingly _unguarded_ , due to arrogance she now knew- and shove it open. The heavy wood gave with a loud groan, and Stephanie strood into the dark room-

Found Ra’s was sitting up within his bed, a bemused little grin creeping up onto his face.

“I was waiting,” he offered, as Talia filled the doorway, telling off the guards who had followed her in quick bursts of Arabic. “I heard your screams. I knew it was only a matter of time, until my daughter could not calm you.”

“I want to know why I’m here,” Stephanie said, her hands clenching and unclenching, at her sides. “ _All of it_.”

Ra’s lifted his chin, pushed his covers back and stood up. Stephanie held his gaze, unwavering, as he lifted up a robe, slid into it and fastened the light cotton shut. “You were given to me to restore. For a price.” Ra’s took a step towards her, and his eyes, she felt as if they glowed with hot embers. “The young detective came to me broken over your loss. I told him I would restore you to health, but you were to remain here, with me.”

“I am not payment,” Stephanie said, partially because it was _true_ , Ra’s wouldn’t have taken her as payment for such an act- but mostly, because she wasn’t a _thing_ to be given.

“No, you are not. Timothy as assured me that he shall not _forget_ this favor I have done him. And in the future, whenever I come for him, he is to return the favor in whatever way I ask.” Ra’s folded his arms, and Stephanie didn’t _want_ to read his gaze. That could mean _anything_. Could be Tim giving up someone he loved dearly, betraying the family, breaking every rule he’d ever embraced-

Or worst of all, giving himself.

“There’s more,” Stephanie said, and she could feel Talia watching her. The woman, however, was not trying to stop her, to silence her.

“There is,” Ra’s admitted. “I told the young detective I would restore you- but I never specified as to what capacity. The Lazarus Water you bathed and birthed in, girl, had no promise of restoring you to what you have become.” He allowed one hand to lift, to wave, gesturing to her very _existence_. “You were either going to come out a broken husk- living but ultimately dead beneath your skin- or _something else_.”

“And what would you have done with me?”

“If you were a husk? I planned to have you sent right to my Timothy’s doorstep. As a glorious reminder that he cannot play god, if he bargains with a demon.” Ra’s advanced towards Stephanie again- and there was a time, in her memories, where she would have been terrified, may have taken a step back.

As it was, her glare did not waver- her chin stayed high. She did not move, even when she swore she could feel hellfire radiating off Ra’s, from how close he was.

She did not feel terror.

She felt… very little, at all.

“I was so sure that seeing you broken and dead within that lovely skull of yours would have driven our young detective to insanity. To have lost someone he loved so much- and for a _second_ time- and to have a chance at your life again. To have hope- and to see that, as his life continues to prove- hope is simply _worthless_. It would have driven him to the brink of insanity. Back to my doorstep- and oh, the bloodlust I know I could awaken in him.”

“And since I have ruined that plan of yours?”

Ra’s let his eyes flicker along Stephanie’s face- and she knew he was taking in her heavy scar, the dead white of her eye. “You were to be trained and groomed for the League. You were to be reminded of the skills you died knowing, and given _new_ skills as well. You were to become a nightmare, to prove to Timothy that perhaps some things are best left dead.” He paused, reached out- and the tips of his pointed nails dragged delicately along her scar. “But you have freewill child, that I know. You died with a flame in your gut, and you were reborn with it still burning. You will do as you please.”

Stephanie didn’t need Ra’s to tell her that was why he was sharing this master plan. She knew. Knew in his eyes- that no matter what he did, the decision would be hers.

“You can fly back to the city that had you murdered,” Ra’s offered, “Or you can stay here, and finish your rebirth. The choice is yours, Stephanie.”

He pulled his hand back, and Stephanie turned from him, looked back over her shoulder, at Talia. She was watching, an obvious tension to her shoulders- but she had yet to utter a word. Had yet to move as if she feared Stephanie’s safety with the Demon’s Head.

She remained away, because she _trusted_ Stephanie’s own abilities.

And that struck down in the heart of her.

“Gotham isn’t my home now,” Stephanie admitted, “but I do not know that this is. All I know is that…” she paused, reached up to rub at her chest, “Things are not as they were. Not _here_. I want what you have to offer me- but what I will do to them is _my_ decision, Ra’s. I am not _bait_ for you to ensnare Tim with.”

_He gave enough, I won’t take the last bit of life from him_.

Ra’s seemed intrigued by her answer, and gave a nod. “Very well. You may remain as long as you like, child. Your training shall continue- I think you will bring me endless amusement.” He seemed ready to reach out to her again- but then seemed to think _better_ of it, and only flicked his hand. “Now, I am tired. Return to your own chambers, unless you plan to keep me company through the night.”

Stephanie turned on her heel without another word, moving back into the hallway, brushing past Talia. She didn’t need to look back to know that Talia was following her, as she headed back towards her room.

She had wanted the truth, when she had finally pulled herself from Talia’s embrace- and god, that had been difficult. Talia was steadying and warm, smelled of life. But there was so much Stephanie needed to know, could not leave in the dark. And she felt almost fearless, as she was. Felt like every emotion that had ever coursed through her was dulled, held behind sticky film so that she could not properly touch them, only know their ghosts.

She pushed her door open, headed for her bed- then thought better of it, and continued, to the window. She pushed open the curtain, pressed her hand to the glass and closed her eyes, letting the cool seep into her palm and fingers. Trying to piece together.

She knew _how_ she lived again. She knew why Tim had done it- Ra’s would never need to explain that. He’d lost her once, _he’d lost Kon_ , he’d lost too many damn people. He couldn’t lose another- and to lose her a second time, it would break him. That, she believed. And the reason for Ra’s accepting- it did not shock her. His infatuation with Tim was not something foreign, nor did she think it was something she would ever live to see the end of.

Ra’s would live forever, if Tim wasn’t the one to shove a blade between his ribs.

But there was still a gap, between her life and her rebirth- the aching cavern _of her death_.

“Stephanie.” Her name came like a whisper in the wind, and she glanced behind her, just as her bedroom door creaked shut. Talia stood back, watching her, cast in the heavy shadows, the inky darkness. Covered in it like a holy mother and her veil.

Stephanie turned away from her, looking back out the window, at the night around them. Talia’s footsteps were nearly silent, creeping over wooden floors and then plush rugs, and back to wood- until she filled the space behind Stephanie, until her reflection showed against the night beyond them.

“ _Tayir jamil_ -”

“I am not angry,” Stephanie said, cutting Talia off. “I should be. I should be furious that Ra’s looked at me like a weapon, like an _item_ he could manipulate. But… I feel very little.” She flexed her fingers against the window, watched in the reflection as Talia reached up and out, covered her own hand-

Her palm a contract of heat, against the glass.

“The pit,” Talia offered, “May have… repercussions. You were not brought back to us in a usual manner, pretty bird. Ra’s set you up to fail, from the moment he accepted your body from Tim and his _clone_.”

Stephanie glanced at Talia’s eyes, through the reflection. “Kon was with him?”

She nodded. “He carried your body when our young detective was too stricken with agony to do it himself. I do not think your Timothy could have done this alone. He is… a broken child, beneath his talent and drive. Broken and yet breaking further.”

Stephanie didn’t argue that- didn’t need to bring all Tim’s demons to light. The ones she knew, anyway. There would always be ones with names she could never fathom.

They all boasted those.

“I know how I came back,” Stephanie said, eyes traveling back to the black-velvet sky. “But I do not know how I died.”

Talia pulled back at that, and Stephanie inhaled, turned- leaned back against the glass. Talia held her stare, but when she spoke, her voice was even more stern and steady than her ethereal eyes. “I will not tell you who took your life,” she said, “That is not my place. If you desire to know who took you, who opened this new path- you must find out for yourself.” Talia flexed her fingers, raised her hand, pausing it to hover over Stephanie’s cheek. “If you do not do it for yourself, little bird, you will not find the closure you seek.”

Stephanie said nothing- wanted to say she wasn’t after closure, simply wanted to connect the _dots_ , to see the whole picture. She had been trained to take in fragments and learn the whole story, she was a _detective_ like every other bat-

But the fragments, she knew, were sharp. They cut, she _bled_ \- and the entire story, the final picture- it needed her blood, to hold it together. An adhesive to stitch together each trauma, each agony she had experienced-

It needed blood, _her blood_. Her determination and sweat and whatever shards were left of her soul.

And she felt no _anger_ towards Talia, for this.

She reached up, pressed Talia’s hand to her cheek, held it as Talia’s thumb caressed softly. She still enjoyed her touch, even with her memories crammed back into the confines of her skull. Knowing the blood Talia had forced others to shed- knowing the good and the bad and the _ugly_ she had done over her life-

It did not alter the fact that, in this new life, she had been the one to welcome Stephanie, from the pit. Was some sort of _holy mother_ in her new reality.

Talia offered her a soft smile, kind around the edges. She leaned in, pressed her lips to Stephanie’s forehead, as her thumb rubbed along the bottom half of her scar. “Sleep,” Talia whispered, “and dream. In the morning, if you have thought of questions, I will give you answers.”

She pulled back, and Stephanie watched her turn, cross the room and slip out the door. When the room was bathed in darkness, silence again, she turned back to the window, stared out at the night sky.

There was someone, out there, that owed her a pound of flesh. And somewhere, out there- was a future she had yet to truly visualize.

*

Stephanie chose to let herself center, for a few days. She did not seek Ra’s again- nor did she seek Talia, either. She attended her lessons, and with her memories could now _understand_ why her body remembered to move the way it did. Sparring and training and determination seeped from those past images into her mind, drove her harder.

Though she did not seek her out, she wasn’t unaware of Talia’s presence. She knew, when she was training with her sword master, that she watched. Felt those serpentine jade eyes and a little wriggling of _something_ inside her.

She hoped Talia liked what she saw. She hoped there was pride.

It was when she was alone in her room, settled on her bed with her legs folded, now with days to sift through her memories, to categorize them, that she allowed herself to consider what was to be done.

She knew who she had been- Stephanie remembered her time as Spoiler, as Robin, as Batgirl. She remembered each suit and the trails they brought- remembered each failure and at turning point as she proved her worth. She remembered what she had _fought_ for.

It felt limp and meaningless, now.

She gazes down at her palms, the callouses of her fingers, before she reached for her loose sleeves, shoved one up to her elbow, to study her arm. She had old scars all over her, one here she could relate to her Spoiler days- clumsy when a thug had a knife, he got into her arm _good_ \- the skim of a bullet, when she had stepped in as Robin-

But, littered with them, were small slices, slivers into her skin, that she did not remember. She pressed her fingertips to them, rubbing along them- they were fresh, a murky pink tinting the whitening scar tissue. They were new and yet, _she couldn’t remember_.

Her arm was covered in them. If she looked at her other arm, she found their twins- as if someone had wanted to bleed her, very slowly. As if someone had wanted it to appear like self harm- like she had done this to herself.

_They wanted her to believe it was her fault_.

She pushed herself off the bed, heading for the bathroom. She flicked the light on, before she worked open the fastening to her robe. She let it fall to the floor, held her arms out to study the naked skin properly, under a harsher light. All the new scars. She looked down, placed her hands on her stomach, but nothing seemed different there. She turned for the mirror, grasped the sink edge and leaned in, looking at her face.

Whoever had killed her, that had done _this_ as well. She had a memory of her face now, of two blue eyes that _sparkled_ when she laughed. She knew she had been pretty-

She squeezed the sink tighter. Her brows furrowed, but only her left eyes showed the potential for seething anger, beneath her. The right remained white and _dead_.

But she _wasn’t_ seething, which was the strange part. She was angry, yes- but she felt still so inside herself, in control of it. Like she could see her anger and touch it, but it would not touch her.

She inclined her head, turned slightly to study her new scar- and caught sight of her shoulder. She knew, from her memories, that her back was littered with marks. Right of passage in the family- all her scars, all the scars her _brothers and sisters_ bore as well.

She turned completely, pulling her hair over one shoulder and glancing back, trying to take them in, through the mirror- and paused.

Against the old scars, over well taught muscles, were thick, sloppy new ones. Heavy handed, as if someone had wanted to see just how much she could bleed- as if they had considered cutting shapes into her, plucking heavy chunks of flesh straight from her body. A cascading line of sketchy shapes, all down her back, ending at the small of her, where her leggings rested.

_They looked like diamonds_.

Stephanie reached over her shoulder, her fingers pressing to one of the heavy lines. They didn’t look like someone had meant to create that shape- just a happy accident. She rubbed it, sucking on her tongue.

These scars, she knew they were pointing her towards _someone_. They were a clue, and she was a _detective_ -

Her first thought was _the Joker_ \- if only because who was _better_ at killing batkids than him? Who was better and plucking their family apart at the seams and leaving them broken, for dead? And the shapes, diamonds- they could be off a card-

She shook her head. They still appeared accidental, in shape. And somehow, this didn’t _feel_ like him. The joke wasn’t big enough. The punchline was missing.

She pulled her hand away from her back, only to reach up, rake through her hair. Someone had bled her, had wanted to skin her- someone had wanted to carve chunks out of her while she was _still alive_. Whoever had done this, whoever had taken the breath from her lungs and stilled her heart, was a _sadist_ , was in it for the pound of flesh and the bloodshed, the _torture_ -

Her thoughts cut off, when she heard her door opening. She turned towards the open bathroom door- felt oddly at ease, by the rhythm of the footsteps. When Talia appeared in her doorway, she was expecting her.

Talia took one glance at her, and her eyes asked all the questions she needed to. “I have new scars,” Stephanie said- and if her half state of undress might have once bothered her, it didn’t now. She was skin and muscle and blood and bone- and there was no reason to feel any sort of shame in that being shown.

“Many new ones,” Talia said, leaning against the doorway and folding her arms. “You did not seek me out. I expected questions.”

Stephanie studied the woman, tried to reconcile the Talia she was seeing with the one from her memories. She’d seen her fight, she’d seen her take blood and lives- and this woman here, standing in front of her with eyes that made Stephanie want to offer up her damn _blood_ \- she seemed _different_. Terrifying beneath the surface- and yet, Stephanie knew she was safe.

She knew Talia wouldn’t harm her.

She stepped away from her fallen robe, walking up to Talia, holding her gaze. Talia’s never wavered, even as Stephanie paused and turned, baring her back.

“This,” she said, her shoulders flexing, the scar tissue pulling, “I do not remember.” She held her chin steady, heard the rustling of Talia’s clothing, and then her hands, on her back. Pressing firmly, at first, flat- feeling the muscles move as Stephanie shifted. “I don’t remember any of the new ones.”

“You have memory gaps,” Talia offered, “It is… expected. Not everyone remembers their trauma, their death.”

“Jason remembered his just fine,” Stephanie said, as Talia’s hands lifted- and then it was her fingertips, the ends of her nails, tracing the sketchy diamond patterns. “He made sure _we_ never forgot, either.”

“You and Jason Todd are different, _tayir jamil_.”

“Not so,” Stephanie said, as Talia’s hands slid lower, pausing at the small of her back, just above the fabric of her leggings. “We both _died_. And we both came back- to _your_ hands, no less.”

Talia pulled her hands back. “Do my hands offend you, Stephanie?”

Stephanie turned then, shoulders firm, her stare level. She reached for them, pulled them in and placed one just beneath her ribs, the other towards her neck, so that her pulse beat evenly against Talia’s palm. “No,” she admitted, pressing her own hands over Talia’s. “The opposite. You were the only relief I felt when I crawled from the pit. I… I _understand_ the affection Jason has for you.”

Stephanie let her hands fall away, but Talia’s remained. Her thumb stroked along Stephanie’s throat, and it made Stephanie want to close her eyes. Was still a soft sort of warmth that made something in her _crave_.

“How do you see me, little bird?” Stephanie glanced up, through blonde lashes, as Talia’s hand moved to cup the back of her neck, to hold her steady. The hand beneath her ribs curled to her waist, held her.

Stephanie smiled, softly. “Like the holy mother,” she admitted, and the words made her tongue feel warm. “Like the one who rose me from the dead. Like the god I want to look at me with _pride_.”

And the thing was- it was _true_. She hadn’t shaken the way Talia had touched her, when she was trembling, coming back to life. How she had let her drag herself from the pit- because she had _faith_.

Faith had always been _earned_ , in Stephanie’s life. This was the first time it had been freely given, without pretense. And when she looked at Talia, all she saw was comfort. All she wanted was her praise, wanted to know she was proving her faith true.

She was a serpent, allowed breath again- and Talia, her pit mother.

Stephanie moved closer, pressed herself tight to Talia. She rested against the crook of her shoulder and neck, breathed in the scent of lilacs, as Talia’s arms encased her, held her steady. She let her eyes close, as Talia stroked at her fresh scars again.

“I expected you to question me about your death again,” Talia admitted.

“You told me,” Stephanie whispered, not lifting her head, “that I must figure this out myself. That you would not tell me. I trust you, Talia.” She shifted, reached up to loosely clutch at Talia’s clothing. “I know from my past that I shouldn’t- but I do. Whoever I am now, it’s _not_ who I was. Stephanie Brown died. I may be her in name and body but… I’m not the same girl I was.” She rubbed her cheek against Talia. “So when you tell me to figure this out for myself- I trust you. I will.”

Talia rubbed her hand down Stephanie’s spine now, leaned her cheek down to rest atop her head.

“Just tell me,” Stephanie whispered, “Do you know who killed me?”

“Yes,” Talia admitted. “I do. I know exactly how you died, little bird.”

Stephanie nodded, didn’t move away from her. “And I will, someday,” she whispered. “On my own. Until then-” she lifted her head, slowly, forced Talia’s to lift as well, “Stay with me, mother. I’m going to be something great.”

And Stephanie _meant_ it. There would be a time, when she would find her answers. There would be a time when she returned _home_ , when she took exactly what was stolen from her-

_Life_.

But she felt no urgency, inside her. She felt little, except calm, embraced as she was. And when she returned, she didn’t want to go back as _Stephanie_ or _Batgirl_ or any other name that she had once held.

She wanted to go back as something _greater_. She wanted to be reborn, rediscovered- she wanted to embrace all that she could be.

Because whoever she had been, before her blood and skin met Lazarus water- was still long dead.


	2. Chapter 2

Stephanie eased her blade down, let the tip of it touch the stone floors. Around her, she heard the _clank_ of metal on metal, as the last few stragglers were put down.

She closed her eyes for a moment, reached up for the mask that covered her mouth and nose and tugged it down. A deep breath, and everything smelled of salt and copper, _still warm_. Sliced open flesh and whatever insides no longer remained there-

It was victory. _Again_.

She pulled her mask back up, turning to face the small troop behind her. With a wave of her hand, they were all pushing away their victims, sheathing weapons and giving curt nods, before turning, to return the way they came. To be taken back home.

Stephanie followed, dodging bodies and body parts, tongue moving over the points of her teeth, behind her mask. In the months she had stayed with Talia and Ra’s, she had lost count of the League missions she had taken a part of. She never went very far from home, but she had yet to return without her hands dirty.

And she realized she _liked_ it that way.

The trip back to the compound was a few hours ride. She reclined and watched the world through the dark of night, enjoying the solitude it gave, in this corner of the world. No city lights and buzzing traffic, just her own pulse and the smell of blood clinging to her boots.

She had excelled, her these past few months, at everything that had been given to her. She’d barely been _herself_ a few weeks before Ra’s said she would become nothing, if she didn’t take a step beyond the safety of their home. And she hadn’t argued- because somewhere inside her, there was a dull thrill over the idea. Better than the gentle pulsing near-nothing she felt, more often than not.

One outing led to another, and then another- and now it was simply _expected_ , by her and of her. But she liked it, liked being _useful_ , relished every chance to prove to herself that she was indeed worthwhile.

When the jeep finally came to a stop, Stephanie hopped out the back. She gave the drive a _thank you_ nod- not bothering with words. Her mask would have muffled them too much- and her Arabic was weak and miniscule, still. She would have simply stumbled over the words. More trouble, in that moment, than it was worth.

Once back inside the hallways of the compound, Stephanie headed upstairs, for her chambers. She never left the room she was first given, couldn’t seem to tear herself away from it now. It was comfortable, and she rather enjoyed the view from her window. Had grown to know the stars in that corner of the sky. When she was inside her room, she pulled her hood back, shook her hair free. She began the task of removing her suit and weapons- piling them on the small table-for-two. Her sword, the belt across her chest with throwing knives- Her utility built. She tugged her gloves off, dropping them next, the metal points embedded above the knuckles _clanking_ on the table.

It took time, to remove her suit. She remembered her suits taking less time, in the past. But she wasn’t expected to ever leave this identity quickly- unlike being Batgirl, or Spoiler, or Robin- whoever she was now, was her only face. The one the world knew.

Stephanie stripped until there was nothing but a pile of clothing, beneath the table, her boots flopped over, the knife hidden in one gleaming as it slid partially from it’s secret sheath. She flexed her back, felt her scars tugging and dragging, rolled her neck, glanced down at the mess and decided _to hell with it_ , she would worry about stashing these things in the morning.

She was sure, at this moment, one of the assassins was reporting to Ra’s. Waking him from his sleep, if he had bothered to sleep at all. She didn’t think he was down by the pools- she was beginning to know his schedule, when his body began to give. She made a point to be around him _more_ on those last few days, if only to see the subtle break in him, the way his shoulders did not hold quite so high.

She liked the idea of the Demon’s Head crippling, slowly, under the weight of time. After all, she hadn’t stayed for _Ra’s_ -

There was a knock at her door, just as she expected. She reached down, played her fingers over the sheather to her sword, as she called, “Come in.”

It didn’t matter that she was naked. She knew who it was.

The heavy door opened, and the footsteps were ever as she knew them. Light as a ghost, that set pattern that was far too calm, at all times.

“It went well.”

It wasn’t a question, from her holy mother, simply a _statement_. Talia never questioned Stephanie- there was too much faith, for that. Not even the first night she had left with the assassins.

Stephanie nodded, turned to face Talia properly. “A success,” she offered, giving Talia one long look, before turning again, walking away from her. She headed for the bathroom, towards the tub. She turned the water on, letting it fill the tub slowly, heading for the sink. Beneath it was a small basket, filled with bottles, and she lifted it, carrying it over, as Talia filled the doorway.

“You smell like blood,” Talia commented, as Stephanie lifted one of the bottles, before settling it back in. The stance, facing away, allowed Talia a view of the scars mapping her back- namely, that which had given Stephanie a new name, a new existence.

“It’s expected,” Stephanie said, letting out a low, bitter chuckle, “Don’t you like it?” She lifted another bottle, before she slipped the basket over one arm, uncapped it, and poured some into the water. The scent settled with the steamy, rich and rose, and Stephanie smiled to herself, capping the bottle and setting it back in the basket, which she left, next to the tub. She shut the water off, before she stepped one foot in. “Or are you inclined to sweeter things tonight?”

She glanced back, held Talia’s beautiful stare for a moment, before she finished climbed in, easing down into the water. The heat felt like it seeped into her skin and pores, filling the spaces between her bones. Made her warm-

She was colder, than she remembered being, since her time in the Pit.

She tipped her head back, and Talia walked over, kneeling down next to her. “With you,” Talia offered, brushing her hand along Stephanie’s hair, “I will take whatever you offer, little bird. Because it is always right.”

She leaned over, pressed her lips to Stephanie’s forehead- and Stephanie smiled over that. Talia had a habit of visiting her, after every mission- so long as she was at the compound. Some nights she was gone, with her own work. But when she wasn’t, she was always there to make Stephanie feel strangely good in ways she was unable to, with anyone or anything else.

Stephanie closed her eyes, as Talia’s knuckles stroked over her cheek, her jaw- and then her fingers, along her neck. Stephanie had assumed, at first, that the affection stemmed from the fact that Ra’s had _given_ the task of Stephanie’s resurrection to Talia. That it was out a necessity, and not personal will. But even when Stephanie was back on her feet, with her memories and her own desires- it remained.

Talia still looked at her like she may be a thing of wonder.

She still smiled in the subtle ways that Stephanie was sure only _she_ caught.

“Our little bird has shed her feathers beautifully,” Talia commented, as her hand ducked into the water, rubbing Stephanie’s shoulder. “Become the perfect snake.”

“Whatever you say, pit mother.” It came out teasing, and Stephanie cracked an eye open, smiling, as Talia mocked a frown. It didn’t read up to her eyes. “Tell me, did Jason get attention like this- or am I the real prodigal daughter?”

Talia shook her head, her free hair cascading along her shoulders and back. Dark waves that Stephanie dreamt about curling around her fingers. She dreamt more than she ever had- at first of the family she had left behind, of the girl she had been- of all the _things_ she had been, creeping and crawling and _writhing_ inside her. But over the weeks, those dreams faded. She dreamt of snakes, now. Of vipers and rattlers and everything in between, snuggling over her every curve as she lay in what was _once_ a Lazarus Pit- but was now filled with them, just for her.

Most nights, those dreams had Talia, looking down at her. Her holy mother, her _pit mother_ , with nails like fangs that made Stephanie want to bleed.

“You did not answer my question,” Stephanie said, and Talia leaned back, arms folded and leaning on the tub, as she studied Stephanie- studied her one good eye and the scar that broke her pretty face.

It wasn’t ugly. Stephanie had decided on that long ago.

“You know what I was to Jason,” Talia offered, “I am sure your entire family knows. Secrest do not keep with bats and birds. They make too much noise.”

“Snakes are quiet,” Stephanie offered. “And I know what you both _gave_ each other. That doesn’t tell me what you were to him.”

“A hand, when he needed it,” Talia offered, “As I was to you.”

“A lingering hand that likes to touch.” Stephanie flashed a smile- the same smile she had used, on prior nights. Nights that always ended with Talia leaving, and Stephanie feeling a crackling need, in her body. Desire hadn’t come back to her, right away. That had taken weeks, before she’d even felt the urge to let her _own_ fingers explore again, in ways they used to, in ways _others_ used to.

Stephanie remembered liking sex. Intimacy. She could place all her memories with Tim now, with everyone before him, after him. And when she had first climbed into bed with one of her fellow assassins, she had expected it to be similar, those same sorts of sensations. And while, physically, it felt as she remembered-

It lacked the strange, heart pounding enjoyment, it had once had.

_Except in her dreams_.

Talia chuckled. “Would you have me look with only my eyes, Stephanie? You are a remarkable girl. Sometimes I need more than one sense to tell me you are real.”

Stephanie almost shivered over that. She reached one hand up from the water, dragged wet fingertips along Talia’s cheek. She couldn’t imagine many other people were given this freedom, to speak with her as Stephanie did- to touch, when she wanted. She imagine, were she anyone else, these fingers would be long gone.

“You’re the holy one,” Stephanie pointed out, “Yet you make me out to be your Christ.”

Talia laughed at that. “You create these illusions,” she offered, turning- her lips pressing to Stephanie’s wet fingertips. “I simply know what you truly are, Stephanie. What you always were.” She reached for Stephanie’s hand, held it, pressed her mouth to her wrist. “A remarkable girl, who would let me eat her heart.”

Stephanie _did_ shiver this time, before she turned. The water sloshed around in the tub as she hooked one arm up, buried her hand in Talia’s hair and tugged her in close. “Push me away,” Stephanie whispered, “or once I start, I’ll forget who I am.”

“You will never forget.” Talia smirked, and Stephanie’s eye flicked to her lips, before she leaned in, pressed her mouth tight to Talia’s. She was warm, like Stephanie had somehow always known she would be. Kissed like a flower opening its petals for the sun- her lips parting enough to make it deep, but not enough for Stephanie to delve further. Stephanie clutched her hair tighter, as Talia guided her back, leaned over the tub to continue kissing her, as one hand pressed into the water. It splayed on her chest, holding Stephanie steady, as Stephanie tried to lick into her mouth.

Talia pulled back, chuckling, her breath warm on Stephanie’s mouth, as her hand slid, traced a small scar near Stephanie’s right breast, before moving to the soft flesh, grasping it in her hand beneath the water. Stephanie exhaled, felt her heart beat rising- in ways it hadn’t, since before her death. She felt excitement, growing in her belly- and while it still felt dulled, like there was that film covering it, keeping it from her skin- there were holes in it, and for precious moments, the emotion was _raw_.

“Eager little bird,” Talia teased, her thumb rubbing in small circles along one of Stephanie’s nipples. “I know of your night escapes with my assassins. I would suspect you would not be starving, as you are.”

Stephanie pulled her shoulder back, bared her chest beneath the water. “Sex isn’t what I remember,” she admitted, “ _nothing_ is as I remember. I don’t feel like I used to, Talia. I’m not a shell-”

“But you do not burst at the seams with life, like the girl you once were.” She squeezed again, before moving her hands down, resting on the defined curves of Stephanie’s abs, feeling endless scars. “You are not empty, but the things you need are kept hidden by curtains, as if to keep the dust from them. And you- you feel like you are the dust.”

Stephanie swallowed thickly, nodded. “You’re in my head,” Stephanie whispered.

“As all mothers should be. And you- you are the one giving me that title, little bird.” She leaned closer again, eyes flickering down to Stephanie’s lips. “But you do not wish blood between us.”

“You brought me back to life,” Stephanie offered, as Talia rubbed a scar so old, Stephanie was sure it had seen every costume she’d ever worn. “You _gave_ me life. There is not blood but trust. Faith.”

“I have endless faith in you, _tayir jamil_. From the beginning.”

Stephanie sat up more, as Talia eased back. “I never understood _how_.” To that, Talia smiled, pulled her hand from Stephanie- and oh, she missed the contact.

“You survived in a world that was carved out to see your end, Stephanie. You flourished when you fell, you wore skin after skin that was not originally yours and yet you _owned_ them completely. When no one else had faith in you, you strove to prove them wrong, and to find that faith yourself. You knew your own worth, even when others told you it was for naught. My darling,” She reached out, cupped Stephanie’s cheek with her arm hand. “In a world meant to kill you, you bloomed.” Stephanie turned, kissed the base of Talia’s thumb, as the woman stood up, extended her hand. “Come. You’ve rid yourself of the smell of blood and sand. There are better places for this.”

Stephanie took her hand, standing up, Talia moved away from her, for the towels stacked towards the corner of the room, while Stephanie bent to allow the water to drain, before she stepped out, wet feet on the tile. The air was cold, compared to the heated water she had been submerged in- but when Talia came back and began pressing one of the soft towels against her skin, she found the heat returning.

Talia didn’t say a word, and Stephanie didn’t ask her too. Simply enjoyed the feeling of the towel over her shoulders, down her arms, along her chest, the friction over her nipples making them tighten, making her breath catch- before it moved down her belly, and Talia crouched. Down one leg, up the other, until she stood again, walked around Stephanie and rubbed the towel over her scarred back.

“My little Diamondback,” she whispered, tossing the towel away to press her hands flat to Stephanie’s back. “You have eaten the bird and bat you were.”

Stephanie closed her eyes for a moment, drank down those words and Talia’s voice. She title, name, _mantle_ , whatever she wanted to call it, had been given and taken one day, when she had come across an assassin who worked with venoms. Rattlesnake venom was not the most potent, but he had seen some of her scars from the way her shirt fell low on her back, had commented that she was just like a snake.

It had seemed fitting, if she came from a pit. If she lived in the sands. Seemed to be exactly who Stephanie needed, since herself was no longer an option.

Talia leaned down, pressed her mouth to the base of Stephanie’s neck. A gentle nudge, and Stephanie opened her eyes, began moving, walking from the bathroom and across the room, heading for her bed. She climbed onto it, and Talia placed a hand between her shoulders, guided her down so that she lay flat on her belly. She climbed up herself, nudging Stephanie’s legs gently, so she could straddle one thigh.

“You want to know what I saw in you,” Talia offered, as she took a single finger, began tracing the harsh lines of the diamond scars on Stephanie’s back. “What I saw was myself, Stephanie. What I saw was more potential than anyone would ever credit you for.” She reached the small of her back, paused, tapped her nails there- and Stephanie let her breath rush out. “Everyone set you up to fail, little bird, because for whatever reason, they viewed you as not worthy.”

She dragged her nails up over the curve of Stephanie’s ass, and Stephanie felt goosebumps, on her skin. She shivered, and Talia only smiled.

“When they were the unworthy ones.” Her nails, on her thigh now, tracing an old scar, before running along the tender inner skin. “Unworthy to have you by their sides- to have you grace their family name. You are no bat, my darling. You are something greater.” Her fingers pushed up higher, pressing between Stephanie’s legs- and Stephanie gasped, her fingers twitching, as Talia traced along her soft lips. “You are whatever you choose to be. You can be the Oroborus, if you want. You can devour the world.”

Her hand cupped to press tight to Stephanie’s cunt, Talia’s fingers growing slick quickly. She smiled over that, as her fingertips pressed to Stephanie’s clit, rubbed slowly.

“Or you can devour me,” Talia offered, “like you did, the moment you crawled from that pit. _You were beautiful, tayir jamil_.” She continued to rub, and Stephanie began to bare her hips down, trying to grind along with Talia’s hand. Her breathing was coming faster, and while she wanted to see Talia, to kiss her while she touched- there was something about this that left her vulnerable, bared for Talia’s eyes. Her scars, on display.

This was her, returning the faith Talia had given so freely.

“You dragged yourself up from the maws of hell,” Talia whispered, leaning forward, rubbing against Stephanie’s thigh. “You clawed at life until it was _yours_ again. Such determination, it does not exist in most. And what I saw, my darling- I fell in love with.”

Stephanie moaned, pushed her face into the pillow. She didn’t take this love for what it might have been, had someone else uttered it to her. Wasn’t the way Tim had loved her once, the way she had loved others. It was strangely beyond that, curving around it to become something more, something purer.

“I will let you have this world,” Talia added, “I won’t give it to you- but you can take what you will.”

She continued to move her fingers in those slow, agonizing circles, until Stephanie was squirming, was pushing herself up on her elbows. “Talia,” she breathed, and Talia pushed harder, had Stephanie shuddering.

“Take me as you would,” Talia offered, “And show me how holy you truly think I am.”

Stephanie felt her heart thudding painfull in her chest. She pulled away, lifted her hips to avoid Talia’s fingers- and when she began to pull herself up, Talia moved off her leg. Stephanie pushed herself up onto her knees, reached for her and- by a firm hold to her bicep- guided Talia back, until she seemed to fan out, over the pillows.

Stephanie reached for her shirt, began popping the buttons- and Talia, she simply looked up at her with amused eyes. Amused _gorgeous_ eyes that had Stephanie questioning reality itself.

She wanted to say something, but her throat felt as if it had closed completely. She could barely keep her hands steady- and when was the last time she had shaken, like this? She couldn’t remember. Familiarizing herself with new weapons, pushing her body back to the limits it had known before her death- even the suddenly familiar texture of blood and broken muscle and bone, it had not shaken her to her core.

But Talia, beneath her fingers, left her core fizzling and erupting into utter chaos.

When she had Talia’s shirt open to pushed it aside, glanced down at the all that perfect dark skin, the breaks in it from scars that it was so _easy_ to forget she even had. Talia never faltered, and it was seldom that Stephanie ever saw anyone get close enough to hit her-

Old failures from youth, Stephanie imagined. Stories of growing up, growing into skin and a name befit for a god- and given to one.

“You are staring, little bird,” she chided, as Stephanie ran her fingers down the center of her body- between her breasts and over the hollow of her ribs, down along her belly.

“You’re beautiful,” Stephanie finally managed, looking up. “I don’t know how to handle it.”

That got her a warm chuckle, and Talia pushed herself up, steadied with one hand as the other reached out to caress Stephanie’s cheek- to rub the heavy scar there. If given the chance, it seemed Talia was always ready to touch the marred side of her face. Stephanie reached out, pushed the shirt off her shoulders, and Talia pulled away to remove it completely, before reaching back and unclasping her bra, tossing that aside as well.

She eased back down without Stephanie having to say a word, and the blonde was sure that somewhere, Talia was completely in her head. Like she could read her every desire, on her face, within her one eye. And it _thrilled_ Stephanie, do some dark core hidden within her marrow-

Because it was _understanding_.

Stephanie leaned over Talia, braced her hands on the bed and pressed her mouth to her throat. Her skin was warm, shockingly soft- and when Stephanie inhaled, she was drowning in the scent of lilacs, as if they bloomed beneath Talia’s skin. She traced the shape of her throat, moved over her collarbone, trailing her mouth gently between her breasts, down her belly. She paused, at the waist of her pants, before she began working them open. Talia lifted her hips, and Stephanie slid down her body, pulling everything with her. She had to pause to unzip Talia’s boots, but she felt utterly calm, undressing her. Like there was no rush.

She did not believe Talia would suddenly pull away. Not now.

Once she had pushed all of Talia’s clothing off the side of the bed, she turned, kissed her ankle, began working up Talia’s leg slowly. There was a scar that looked like a burn, on the back of one calf, and Stephanie darted her tongue along it.

Talia sighed, tipping her head back- bared her imperfections for Stephanie like she hadn’t done for someone in a very long time. Stephanie didn’t doubt plenty had seen her like this- Talia had lovers whenever she wanted, and Stephanie _knew_ some of them resided within her own family. She wondered if Jason had worshipped Talia, in their brief time together. Had he looked at her like the world blossomed from her belly and shone through her eyes, kissed every bit of skin in the hopes of finding the gold that must be laced, just beneath the surface.

And had _Bruce_ given himself this fully, bared every bit of him that could have been ugly, for Talia’s judgement? Had he opened up for her, like an offering?

Had he treated her like a god?

“Pretty bird,” Talia offered, her voice humming with little pleased notes. “You are lost in your head.”

“I’m lost in you,” Stephanie offered, kissing at Talia’s inner thigh. Talia smiled, closing her eyes again, as Stephanie moved her lips up, to trace the curve of her hip. Deliberately keeping away from where she knew Talia wanted to be touched, wanting to drag this night out into eternity. She dragged her teeth along the curve of her hip, before pushing up her body, laying against Talia to simply _feel_ skin on skin, as she cupped one breast gently, kneading the flesh. She kissed beneath it, before closing her mouth around one dark nipple, sucking gently-

And when Talia arched, a part of Stephanie died of joy. Her shoulders dug into the bed as Stephanie’s tongue trolled over the hardened bud, as Talia’s hips pushed up, trying to grind against her. Stephanie huffed out through her nose, squeezed her own legs together, felt like she was _dripping_ at this point, body still humming from Talia’s earlier touches.

She lifted her mouth, only to turn to the other breast, to lavish the same attention on her other nipple. Talia sighed this time, reached down to begin threading her fingers into Stephanie’s hair, as she nipped gently, trapping the sensitive flesh between her teeth, squeezing enough to get a gasp out of Talia.

She pulled away only when Talia twisted her hair around her fingers, gave a gentle tug- and Stephanie was listening, moving at the silent command. She eased back down Talia’s body, pressing right between her thighs, her tongue pressing out to run up along her lips, before pushing past them, against her clit.

Talia’s pleased moan had Stephanie shivering. She rolled her tongue along her clit, her hands reaching for her thighs, pressing into them, as Talia’s hips pushed up, rode Stephanie’s mouth in a way that was lewd and obscene and somehow _divine_. Stephanie moaned, lapped harder, her tongue running the length of Talia’s cunt. She was losing herself in her taste, in the hot, soft folds of flesh, in the way Talia had no shame in pushing up when she wanted more-

“Stephanie,” it came breathy, soft, and Stephanie squeezed her eyes shut, pushing her tongue down, _into_ Talia. Talia shivered, tossed her head, as Stephanie fucked her with it, just enough to create that sweet pressure, before pulling back, diving in again.

She squirmed, pushing her own thighs together. She swore her pussy ached in ways it never had, had her wanting to grind down into the bad, to desperately get some friction where it _mattered_ -

But she was too enthralled with Talia to worry about herself. She lapped back up to her clit, sucked on it gently and felt Talia quaking beneath her. When she eased the suction, her tongue was back, flicking over the bundle of nerves, over and over again.

Stephanie was sure she could do this all night, until her jaw fused open, her joints turning to dust. Sure she could go until every muscle in her neck burned, and even then, she would not stop. She wanted Talia to feel good in ways no one else had ever made her feel wanted to please her-

She felt Talia’s fingers, in her hair again, stroking through it, tugging when Stephanie moved her tongue just right. Her hips were rolling up to meet her mouth, breaths coming faster- and when each breath brought a small noise form the _ever controlled_ woman, Stephanie counted them each as a victory. She groaned herself, until she heard Talia _chanting_ her name, like a holy mantra, over and over again- and then it was loud, wordless, a moan as she shook, her hips rocking up, and Stephanie clutched her thighs, worked Talia through her orgasm.

Talia arched, each wave coming faster, _harder_ , until the space between her eyelids had gone from black to white, her muscle pulsing so pleasantly she was swimming in a thick sea of static-cotton. She eased back to the bed, muscle relaxing, and Stephanie’s tongue slowed. Stephanie hummed to herself, as she lapped slowly, just enough to bring Talia back down from her high, before she carefully lifted her head.

Talia had opened her eyes, was glancing down her body, watching her with stardust eyes. Stephanie smiled, softly, and Talia _laughed_.

“Come up here,” she whispered, reaching down to stroke her fingers over Stephanie’s hair again. Stephanie listened, crawled up Talia’s body, as the woman turned onto her side, leaned in to kiss Stephanie before she was even settled. She licked gently at her lips, and Stephanie wondered if she tasted as divine to herself as she did to Stephanie.

She was just opening her mouth for Talia, when she felt her hand suddenly between her thighs, pressing tight to her again. Stephanie shivered, as those fingers traced her pussy, past flesh to slide easily up to her clit. Stephanie gasped, and Talia nipped at her lower lip, pinched it between her teeth and tugged.

“I will always give back to you,” she whispered, inclining her head before she kissed Stephanie again. It was deep, to the point that Stephanie was sure, any secrets she had hidden beneath her tongue, Talia now knew. Her fingers were moving quickly, and again, Stephanie was unsure how Talia _knew_ how to touch her, when she had spent so long teaching others how it need be done.

She rocked her hips, groaning when Talia’s fingers slid off, slipped further back, and two pressed into Stephanie’s heated body. She trembled, gasped, and Talia kissed the corner of her mouth, along her jaw, as her fingers lazily fucked her, her thumb rubbing circles into her clit.

“You will feel as good as I did,” Talia whispered, into her ear, “My little bird. Can I see you fly?”

Stephanie bit at her lip, nodded, squeezing her eyes shut. Talia nuzzled into her neck, sucked gently at her pulse, as Stephanie felt her body slowly tightening, with each thrust of those fingers, each passing minute. She fell into it, lost time as she had with her mouth against Talia- until Stephanie was tipping her head back, giving a loud cry, her body clenching tightly around Talia’s fingers. Talia smiled into her neck, nuzzled her so affectionately, as she continued to touch her through it-

Until Stephanie had gone lax, was nothing but a pool of mellow muscle and bone, on the bed. She said nothing, as she pulled her hand away from Stephanie’s cunt, as she draped her arm over Stephanie-

Only pulled her closer, left her locked in her embrace, where Stephanie felt safe. Where she felt _complete_.

*

When Stephanie next woke, dragged herself from the heavy ink of sleep, there was sun, coming in through her window. The curtains had a heavy part in them, and it shone warm on the floor, up onto the rug, slivered wide over the bed. Stephanie blinked sleep away, felt the weight of an arm, draped over her. She glanced down, found Talia’s hand hanging limp by her belly- became aware of her breaths, slow and even, against Stephanie’s hair.

She closed her eyes, allowed herself a small smile. She was… content, in that moment. In ways she had not been, in some time. It felt like there was always something inside her, gnawing, _feeding_ , but dulled in a way that was utterly maddening.

She rubbed her hand along the sheet, and wondered how long this would last. This moment of peace. How long until it was cast completely in film and held within her body, just out of grasp. How long until she could only feel the shapes of it, but not the details.

Very carefully, she reached for Talia’s arm. She lifted it, settled it behind her as she sat up, tossing her blanket aside. She stood up, walked naked across her room to the large window, pulled the curtain against her body and watched the world outside.

She did not know, if she would ever truly _feel_ the way she used to. She had hoped, each day, with each renewed experience, that it would bring her closer to her old self. Not _exactly_ the Stephanie she was, but at least to be filled with those bursts of emotions, sensations, she used to know so well. She had been passionate, enlivened-

Somedays, now, she felt like nothing more than a colorful shell.

She heard the bed creaking, did not glance back as she was sure Talia was sitting up. She heard a soft yawn, the sound of muscle and bone and joint awakening as she stretched.

“What are you doing over there?”

Stephanie said nothing for a moment, glancing back out. The sea of a world around them, as far as her eye could see- and what she knew she needed, was well beyond that.

“Stephanie?” She turned her head, glanced over her shoulder. Talia’s eyes were bright despite just waking, alert as if she had never once closed them. Stephanie expected nothing less.

It must have shown, in her good eye, because suddenly Talia was stepping out of bed, walking over to her, pressing right up against her and getting both arms around her waist. Her skin was as soft, as warm as Stephanie remembered from the night before, heated up the scars on her back and made them feel like they lived, could crawl and move and _claw_ -

“You are going to leave me, little bird,” Talia whispered, looking out the window as well. “I see it in you.”

Stephanie reached up, covered Talia’s hands with her own. “Not leave,” Stephanie whispered, squeezing them. The idea of that filled her stomach with a sickening dread, a maelstrom of ache and agony that made her want to wretch. She never wanted to leave Talia-

_Never_.

“But I have to go,” Stephanie whispered, looking down at her arm, at all the thin scars lining it. “I have something I must do.”

Talia squeezed her, and it was both affectionate and comforting. She leaned in, nuzzled Stephanie’s hair. “Speak with my, little bird. You look at those scars as if you see into them.”

And the thing was, Stephanie _did_. Her memories were coming back, regarding that night. Slowly trickling into her dreams, over the past few months. Never a face or a body or _anything_ , but she remembered being strapped down, her suit being turned to tattered rags- her skin open as someone threatened to skin her, piece by bloody piece-

But it wasn’t the memories that had given away, who had done this to her. It was the clues left behind, on her body. It was her own mind that drove her, through months of pondering, pulling apart the pieces, putting them back together- having the freedom to run through the League’s network, as she saw fit, to cross reference her ideas-

In the end, it was her detective skills that showed her who had killed her.

“I know who killed me,” Stephanie whispered, “And I have to make it right, Talia. I don’t… feel, like I used to. I feel like there is something inside me that is still dead. Like so much of me never came back.” One of Talia’s hands slid lower, rested on the curve of her lower belly. “When I feel things, it is as if they are muted.” Stephanie sighed. “Joy, fear, sadness- it’s all there, but it… it is colorless.”

“And you believe you will set yourself right, by taking this specific life?”

There wasn’t judgement in Talia’s voice, Stephanie knew. If anything, she was sure Talia would support taking her pound of flesh back- but the question still hung. “I don’t know,” Stephanie admitted, opening her eyes. “I have no idea. But… I have to do it. I’m still _angry_ over what was done to me.” She bared her teeth, looking fierce in the glass reflection. “What was taken. And there are… there are things I have to do, Talia. Frayed strings that must be cut.”

Stephanie didn’t say repair- because there was nothing left of her life that she could see ever _fixing_.

Talia nodded, leaning down to kiss Stephanie shoulder. “As you wish, Stephanie. I would not dream of holding you back- you’re far too magnificent, when you spread your wings.”

Stephanie chuckled over that, glancing towards Talia. “I thought I lost my wings, _pit mother_? Aren’t I a snake now?”

Talia hummed, moving Stephanie’s hair so she could kiss the tip of the sketchy scars, on her back. “You are many things,” Talia whispered, with affection, with conviction and confidence, “my darling Diamondback.”

*

Stephanie crouched atop the roof, staring down at the city below her. It teemed with life, lights and bustling cars, traffic still heavy. Familiar sights that felt almost strange now.

She straightened up, studying the apartment building across from her. She had a mental map of every safehouse, within Gotham, that family members held. Even knew some they thought she _didn’t_ know about.

Namely, this one.

Stephanie pulled a grappling hook from her belt, shooting it across the busy street well below her. She tugged on the line, made sure it was secure, before she leapt off the roof, riding it across. Her feet planted firmly against the old brick, and she eased herself down, towards the fire escape. They always liked fire escapes, easy to climb in and out of apartments without being detected. Cliche, maybe, but they had always _worked_.

And they were going to work for her now.

Stephanie dropped down onto it, the grating rattling beneath her boots. She tucked her grapple gun away, straightened her hood, before she began her ascent, up another two flights. Not _quite_ the rooftop floor, but still fairly close.

She tried to window, and as expected, found it locked from the inside. She hummed to herself, before pulling one of her batons from her belt. She tested the weight in her hand, got a good grip, before she pulled back and swing forward, smacked the solid metal into the glass and shattered it.

She was inside, the moment the glassed was falling to the apartment floor. Careful to avoid getting cut on her maneuver in, she was standing upright, baton still in hand, when her target came into view.

Tim looked as if he had been half asleep. He wasn’t wearing a single piece of gear, his hair was a mess, and he was completely weaponless- however, the tightness to his shoulders told Stephanie it wouldn’t have mattered. He’d put up a damn good fight in sweats and that damned _Superboy_ tshirt, if he had to.

He froze, when he saw her, still tense but _studying_. She wondered if her stance gave her away- did she still hold herself, like she used to. Did a part of her, beneath all this black, still smell the same, despite the new soaps, the sand. The hood kept her face mostly in shadow, so it couldn’t be that-

And yet, Tim was silent, hesitating, like he could be facing a ghost, a hallucination. And Stephanie couldn’t have that- the night was too short, there was too much to be done.

She secured her baton, reached up and tugged her hood back. Her long hair was free, framed her face- that one startling blue eye and her dead one, left unmasked. Tim’s eyes widened, and despite the lower half mask she wore, she _knew_ he recognized her.

“Stephanie…” he whispered, and she pulled the mask down, left it around her neck, as she smiled. Subtle and fanged.

“Hi Tim.” It sounded like her, and yet, it didn’t. It lacked the _life_ she used to say his name with. Lacked something very important…

“Oh my god, I thought… I didn’t…” he took a step towards her, reaching out with one hand, towards her arm, her shoulder- but didn’t touch. “I didn’t think I’d see you again. Ra’s said he was keeping you…”

“The Demon’s Head cannot keep what he doesn’t own,” Stephanie said, glancing at Tim’s hand. “And I am not an object.”

Tim said nothing, let his hand rest on her bicep, curl around it gently, like he didn’t think he could actually hold her. It was almost nice, to feel that again. Even through the layers of clothing.

Tim’s eyes kept flicking along her- at her face, before they’d drift away, and Stephanie felt like his thoughts were screaming inside her head.

“I didn’t come back the way you expected.”

Tim shook his head. His hand reached up, fingers flexing once before they touched her cheek, skimmed back along it. “I thought… it’d be like Jason. He kept some scars but…”

“Ra’s never planned to bring me back in any shape you’d want,” Stephanie admitted- because she didn’t have love for the man. His daughter, perhaps- but Ra’s himself was just another face, in an endless sea of them. “He hoped you’d be broken by me.” She felt Tim’s thumb, rubbing along the edge of her scar, and for a moment, wondered what he saw. Was she still the girl he’d fallen so hard for, all those years ago? Was she still his first real love, beneath this new mask she couldn’t pry off?

Was she still the Stephanie he’d laughed and loved and cried with- or was she _someone else_?

“He put me in his _leftovers_ , Tim,” she said, as his thumb moved over her scar again. “He put me in the sweat of his damn Lazarus Pit. He hoped I’d be nothing but skin and bone, that I’d be dead,” she reached up, tapped her temple, “in here. Like Jason, _before_ the Pit. He wanted to leave me on your doorstep, Timmy. Like a little reminder that I was your mess. I was your fault.”

Tim cringed, hearing her say that, his hand moving away from her face. Stephanie reached for it, grabbed it and pressed it to her cheek again, forced him to keep touching the scar that tore her pretty face.

“Why are you telling me this?” Tim asked, and Stephanie smirked- a flash of white like fang.

“Because, like I said- I have no love for the Demon’s Head. And if you ever were to rip his heart out-” she paused, stared Tim dead in his eyes, “I’d be as delighted as I can be, in my current state.”

Tim flinched, and Stephanie saw something flashing in his pretty eyes. Something akin to fear.

“Stephanie… what happened to you…”

“I died, Tim.” She let his hand go, reaching a hand out and placing it flat on his chest. “I died and I came back.” She pushed, began walking him backwards- and he moved with her, each step in perfect time. “And whatever I came back as-” Tim’s back bumped the wall, “it’s not the girl I was.”

She leaned in, kept her hand splayed, and let her mouth cover Tim’s. She hadn’t kissed him in a long time- had memories of it, of how she used to smile against his mouth, how he kissed like every dream she’d ever had-

This, this wasn’t that. This wasn’t the childhood love lost she remembered. This was his mouth still under hers, before it moved slowly, tentatively- and if it was fear or curiosity or sadness or pure _self hate_ that drove it, she couldn’t be sure. She gripped at his tshirt- at _Kon’s_ tshirt, and wondered where the meta was. If he was in Gotham. If he’d walk in on Tim letting his formerly-dead exgirlfriend kiss him, and have to explain that.

Somehow, she didn’t doubt that he _would_ have an explanation, and that Kon- he’d listen. Because they worked well. They worked in ways he and Stephanie hadn’t, in the end.

And if she had ever been upset over that, she couldn’t feel it now.

She pulled back, and Tim stared up at her, blue eyes wide and _sad_ at their center. Stephanie let her hand fall to her side, took a step back.

“You can stay,” Tim said, clearing his throat as his voice began to fail him. “I’ll face Ra’s. I’m not   
_afraid_ of him, Stephanie.” She knew that was a lie. She knew Ra’s kept Tim up at night- but she also knew he meant it, that he would face him, look him right in the eyes and not flinch. He was brave, like that.

He was stupid, like that.

He was a lot of things, in the end. “I’ll help you. The whole family will. All that matters is that you’re back-”

Stephanie lifted her hand, silencing him. “Tim,” she said, and it came out soft, bordering affection, “I didn’t come here for your help. I didn’t come here for some sort of hand wrapped _salvation_ you think you can give me. I didn’t even come here for you, Tim.” Stephanie paused, reached up, touched the edge of the scar on her face. “I came here for _me_.”

Tim was silent, for a moment. She could see him visibly swallow. “I want to help you, Stephanie,” he offered, slowly. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“I know.” Her eye softened, and Stephanie felt a small pull, in her chest. The beginnings of what she might have felt so strongly once it would have crippled her. A strange sort of love that wasn’t what it once was, but was better now, stronger. Or, _had been_. When she could properly feel it. “But you can’t, Tim. There is no help I want. Not from you, or anyone else. I can help myself.” She lifted her chin. “I just needed you to see me. To see what I am, now.”

She turned, flipped her hood back up, heading for the window she had shattered. She paused at it, glancing back behind her. “You helped make me, Tim,” she said, “but don’t blame yourself, for what I might do. This is my own choice.”

“Stephanie-”

“I have to set things _right_.”

“Stephanie _don’t_!”

“I know who killed me.” She shoved the window open, so that she had a cleaner exit waiting. “I have memories now, and I’ve pieced together what he left on my body. He killed the bat and the bird and the _girl_ , but he left enough scraps that I could be reborn.” She turned away, and mostly to herself, added, “A snake crawled out of that Pit. And she’s _hungry_.”

She hoisted herself through the window, calling back,

“Don’t follow me, Tim. Stephanie Brown is dead. Let her rest in peace.”

With that, she drew her grappling hook, and shot herself out into the night. She didn’t allow herself to look back, to see Tim hanging out his window, those eyes pleading for her to _stay_.

She heard him screaming her name, into the night, and _it was enough_.

*

Stephanie tapped her fingers, to the gentle pound of the rain that had begun to fall. A part of her had missed this- Gotham’s endless rains. As if the heavens could weep for this fetid city.

As rancid as the taste the pit water had left in her mouth.

She was watching the old rundown apartment, in front of her. Abandoned, in the Narrows, left to be a ghost until it’s skeleton could be removed and thrown in the city’s closet. Watching, because tonight, something was _living_ there.

It hadn’t been hard, to track his movements. Once she had made up her mind, knew who had killed her, a little digging told her all he was up to, in her old city. Stealing kids and selling them in dog-like fights, _again_. Offenses he’d already committed, and got the chance to do again, because no one in this damn family could ever do what _needed_ to be done.

Good thing she wasn’t _family_ anymore.

Stephanie crossed the street in quick strides, once she had counted to _forty_ and thought her targets visitors were in deep enough. A few hopping steps up the stairs, and she was pushing the old, once-green door open, slipping into a near dark. A single, dying lightbulb lit the old entry room, swinging as if someone had reached up and smacked it, on their trip in.

She didn’t think this building served as anymore than a meeting place, and that was fine. She wasn’t here to do saintwork- she could leave cutting the fight ring into pieces to the _good guys_.

She just wanted her pound of flesh.

Stephanie crouched down, very slowly, leaned until her shoulder was pressed to the floor, her ear following, one hand splayed on it to steady her. She closed her eyes, did her best to tune out the rain inside- and as she expected, her the subtle rumble of voices, beneath. She smiled to herself, pushed herself up and headed down the hallway, looking for the basement staircase. It was towards the back, and old door, the hinges so rusted they looked ready to turn to dust if she touched them.

The door squeaked slightly when she opened it, and she flinched, but the voices below didn’t waver. _Perfect_. She pulled the door shut behind her, began a careful descent on the dark stairs, could hear the voices more clearly now, forming words.

“He’s just a street rat, won’t be missed. Little scrawny but, ya know, they bleed the same right?” Stephanie leaned down, peeking through the space growing between the stairs and the first floor, saw a kid being held by one large hand on his biceps. His hands were bound, behind his back- his clothes filthy, torn in a few places. When he turned his head slightly, she could see his lip was broken. The guy holding him probably took a few good shots at him, before dragging him here.

“That they do.” The voice was eerily calm, devoid of anything except a mild interest. It was one Stephanie knew, and hearing it again, jarred memories in her that had been clouded. She gritted her teeth, reaching for her belt and pulling out the heavy knife Talia had gifted her, before she left.

Had said that a _personal_ mission, such as this, deserved something fresh, something clean. _Untainted_ yet, but other successes and failures. 

She expected Stephanie to fulfill it’s thrists.

Stephanie gripped it tightly in her hand, blade down, took a single steadying breath- and then she was moving. Her footsteps were soft, light, despite her run- and she was on the floor, boots on pavement, crossing the room before anyone could even widen their eyes, over the sound.

She reached the large man holding the child, and without hesitation lifted her blade and drove it in, between his shoulder blades. He lurched, gave a gurgling shout, and Stephanie got both hands around the handle and dragged it down, the muscles in her arms going tight, so tight they _hurt_.

It felt so _good_ she could have let her eyes roll.

The blade reached the small of his back, and Stephanie pulled the knife out, kicked at his body and let it fall to the floor, to bleed out on the pavement as he twitched. She lifted her eyes, glaring from beneath her hood, and found a bemused smirk, waiting her-

Painting Victor Zsasz’s face just like another knick from his own knives.

“Well, hello stranger,” he offered, “isn’t this an eventful addition to my evening.”

Stephanie steadied her feet on the pavement, before she flicked her gaze to the child- standing pale and sick looking, over the pool of blood spreading on the pavement. She glanced back at Zsasz, who folded his arms.

Didn’t seem the least bit concerned in his possible stock, and whatever Stephanie wanted to do with him.

She turned, grabbed the kid by his arm and got her knife in his plastic bindings, cutting through them. “Get,” she said, jerking her head towards the stairs, and he took off running, the sounds of wet sneakers sloshing and squeaking, filling the air until the door creaked open, and promptly slammed shut.

Stephanie looked back at Victor. “Do I know you?” He asked, and if he had even an ounce of fear running through his veins, he wasn’t showing it. It made Stephanie’s skin want to crawl.

“You do,” she said, muffled behind her mask. She reached up, grasped it and tugged it down, her nose instantly taking in the coppery scent, rising from the body at her feet. She grasped her hood, tearing it back, held her chin high and firm so that Zsasz could get a good look at her face. At her scar and the dead emptiness to her eye. “You killed me once.”

Zsasz _hummed_ , before it ended in a chuckle. “The Bat’s brat,” he mused, “That I did, pretty girl. It seems you didn’t stay that way.”

“I have… desperate friends.”

“Mhm. Very desperate if they’d take you back in the shape you’re in. You had a pretty face beneath that mask, didn’t you?” Stephanie smirked, flexed her fingers around the handle of her knife.

“Still is,” she offered, “scars make us who we are, remind us of the pieces we try to forget. You’ve got quite your own _collection_ , Zsasz. I’d think you’d be one of the last people to call a scar _ugly_.”

Zsasz chuckled, reaching up and carefully tugging his jacket off. He fished around in it, plucked out a knife and flicked it open. “Clever girl. Such a shame your family won’t approve of your mess.” He settled the blade between his teeth, began rolling his sleeves up, and Stephanie spread her legs slightly, steadied her stance.

“I don’t have a family anymore,” was all she gave him, as he plucked the knife back from his teeth, holding it shockingly gingerly. A final smirk, and he was moving, fast as Stephanie remembered. She dodged the slash, struck a punch to his shoulder, the short metal spikes on the knuckles of her gloves tearing his shirt and sticking into his skin. The force of it had him stumbling to his side, but he only spun, his smirk turning to a grin.

“You hit harder.”

“I don’t have to hold back now.” She lunged, had her knife poised to settle into his shoulder, but he was still _fast_ , and his skimmed along her other arm, tearing her suit and drawing blood. It stung and she winced, but otherwise Stephanie was turning- just to take his foot right into her belly.

She stumbled back a step, the wind knocked out of her, got her wounded arm around her belly, as if it _ached_. The action made Zsasz cocky, and he ran at her again, just in time for her to crouch, get her fist up under his ribs. Another four small puncture wounds, and his breath gone, he stumbled back a step, just enough for Stephanie to get her foot into his gut, and force him to the floor.

He fell backwards, partially onto the corpse on the ground, the man’s blood smearing along Zsasz’s white shirt. Stephanie walked closer, staying light on her feet- knew if she went down to sink her knife into him, he’d get her first. He wasn’t winded enough. And while she had plenty of tricks with her to make this fight _fast_ , she wasn’t looking for a quick-satiation.

She wanted to destroy Zsasz the way he had destroyed her, the way he loved to pluck everyone apart. With just a knife, and her body.

“Come on now,” she taunted, “that can’t be _it_. I came a long way for you, Zsasz. Left a very pretty woman’s bed just to give you a taste of what you force fed me.”

Zsasz pushed himself up, rolling his neck, before he came at her again. Stephanie got her arm up, let it collide with his to keep him from stabbing the knife down into her, and punched him directly in the chest. She heard the air rush out of him, and in this moment, she wondered how he had ever gotten her down in the first place.

She remembered something making her feel sluggish, and while it wasn't his _type_ , drugs, she guessed he could play dirty, when desperate. It hadn’t lasted long enough to dull the pain of him carving into her, however.

“You know,” he wheezed out, before sucking in a breath, still pushing against her raised arm. “I was going to skin that pretty fucking face of yours. Would’ve, too, if that Red Robin bitch hadn’t been on his way. We could’ve had a whole night, sweetheart.”

He pulled his arm back so quickly that Stephanie leaned forward, and the knife was suddenly dragging down her forearm, before stabbing _into_ it. She howled, jerked back so quickly the knife left his hand, and took a step back.

Breathing quickly through gritted teeth, she looked down at it, before glancing back up at Zsasz.

“You have Red Robin to thank for my return, too,” she offered, “Seems he likes to ruin your fun.” She settled her knife between her teeth, grabbed the handle of Zsasz’s, and tugged it out, groaning around the blade in her mouth. She chucked it aside, before getting her own knife back in hand, could feel blood seeping down the arm of her suit. “But there’s no one else to really thank for the current _me_ , other than you.”

She charged again, shoulder down, and forced him back, until his balance was thrown. Zsasz spilled to the floor, this time in the cooling blood staining it, and Stephanie let herself drop down onto him. She got her hand around his throat, squeezed despite the way the torn muscle in her forearm screamed- and held him.

“Batgirl would still _exist_ , if you hadn’t killed her. The girl I was, she’d be laughing on a rooftop right now, _enjoying_ her job. Maybe she’d even still love this putrid city.” She squeezed, watched his eyes going a little wide. “You know what I love now, Zsasz? Hmm?”

She gripped her knife tightly, drove it down into his shoulder, and nearly shivered over his strangled scream. She leaned close, between it and his head, so when she turned to whisper in his ear, she could smell the break in his skin, the copper-rich insides.

“Nothing,” she hissed, before she twisted the knife, let go of his throat just to hear him scream better. She pushed herself up, plucking the knife free and stabbed it down, into his other shoulder. “Do you know how that feels, Zsasz? To know you were once _passionate_ , and now to only feel those same emotions through a disgusting film? Everything is _faded_ , murky.”

Like she was still in that damned pit.

Stephanie pulled her blade free, grabbed at Zsasz’s shirt and tore her arm back. The buttons flew off, clattered to the floor, as she shoved the fabric to the sides.

“However,” she added, pressing the tip of her knight just under his collar bone. “That doesn’t mean I won’t enjoy this.” She squeezed her thighs down on him, gave him a sharp punch to his jaw to disorient, to make sure he wouldn’t try to shove her off, before she pushed the knife in, opened up the already scarred skin and pulled the knife down, creating one thick line.

She turned her knife, dragged it back in, before turning, repeating. Beginning to replicate a pattern she felt burning, in her own skin.

“Tell me,” she whispered, when she reached the hem of his pants, and lifted her knife up, heading back to her sternum to start again. “Was it random, what you carved into my back? Did you just want to loosen chunks of me to pry away and leave for the Batpack? Or were you trying to tell a story, in my skin?”

Zsasz’s lip was split, and there were punctures, in his jaw from the studs on her knuckles. He gritted his teeth, showed blood in the cracks from where he had bit his tongue. “Wanted to leave chunks of you _all over Gotham_ ,” he admitted.

Stephanie hummed, finished off the diamond pattern and leaned back over Zsasz, tapping the knife on his chin. She pressed the tip in, until it broke skin, and watched a single drop of blood roll down his neck. She smirked, before she dragged the knife along his face, cutting up over his jaw, along his forehead. Zsasz winced, his lip twitching.

“Know that what you wanted to do to me,” she whispered, and it was almost intimate, the tone of her words, “I’ll do to you, Zasz. And know that, at least in life, you _did_ kill Batgirl. And what you birthed,” she leaned closer, her breath puffing against his lips, “is much, _much_ worse.”

Zsasz screamed, when she dug her fingers into the cut on his forehead, grabbing skin and forcing her knife up under it, so she could begin to pull it down towards his chin.

*

Stephanie watched the sun rising, over the waking city. Traffic was picking up from the dead-lull it had been, when Stephanie had left Zsasz’s body. She flexed her hands, rolled her shoulders- ignored the ache in her arm from her wound, the bruises forming under her suit. They didn’t matter. None of it did.

What mattered was Zsasz’s body, left to rot in his own fetid blood, skinned in a way that, at first glance, _he was unrecognizable_.

Stephanie heard the air shifting, and glanced behind her. A rope ladder had dropped, and when she glanced up, there was a familiar ship, hovering above her- tussling her free hair with the wind it was creating. She turned, grasped the ladder and began climbing up, at one point giving the ladder a bit of a swing, if only to enjoy the wind in her hair, for a moment.

Once she had climbed up into the ship- big enough for her to stand, she found a pair of serpent seething jade eyes, waiting for her.

“You smell of blood, little bird.”

Stephanie smiled. “Mostly not my own,” she offered Talia, “I promise.” Talia only nodded, grasping the sliding door to the ship and turning, looking out at the city as it began to move, lifting higher.

“You got what you came for, then?” Stephanie nodded. “How much remains of the one named Zsasz?”

“Enough that they’ll recognize him, once they get past the grotesque.” Stephanie had dug her knife in deep, plucked out the hunks of flesh she had sketched out, within her diamond shapes. But, unlike how Zsasz had wanted to scatter her around Gotham, she had left him in a pile on the floor. Like nothing but waste and trash.

Talia gave a nod- and she was looking at the sun now, the rise of it, over the city. “So now that you have your pound of flesh, where will you go? I know my beloved and his family are no longer an option to you, after such an atrocity.”

“There wasn’t an option before,” Stephanie admitted. She reached up, gripped a bar above her head so she could lean, slightly, into the air wafting up from the city. She had never intended to go back to Bruce, to Tim, to all the family she had once loved. Not when she knew she couldn’t love them as thoroughly as she once had- not now that she had tasted Lazarus water and saw nothing but bleakness, in their methods.

She glanced over at Talia, watched the wind whipping her hair. It made her smile, softly. She knew if she leaned over, into her, she’d smell like lilacs. It’d drown out the scent of blood that clung to Stephanie like a shadow, like a ghost-

No, _no ghosts_. Her ghosts were dead, her demons slayed- and for once, she felt she had done _god’s work_.

After all, he wasn’t all that merciful.

“Where would you have me go?” Stephanie asked, and Talia turned, steadying those holy eyes on her.

“Wherever you are content, _tayir jamil_. I am not my father. I do not have a will for you, other than your own fulfillment.”

Stephanie hummed- and she wasn’t entirely sure how true that was. She didn’t believe Talia would lie to her, but truth emissions, they might pass. Lies that could be permitted and faked as _non-lies_. But in that moment, Stephanie wasn’t entirely sure if she _cared_ if Talia had a plan for her, in any way.

She was all she had in this world, now. The only one to look at her and _see_ her, for what she was now. The one who was there at her birth, who trusted her to claw herself free of the hell maw she had been nearly drowned in. The only one who seemed to look at Stephanie, and see an embodiment of faith.

If her will was leaking into Stephanie’s consciousness, she could allow that.

“I’ll go wherever you go,” Stephanie finally said, taking a step closer to Talia, turning so that she had one hand on the bar, could reach out with the other. She threaded Talia’s hair around her fingers, and the woman didn’t seem to care about the filth those fingers had seen, throughout the night.

Stephanie knew better then to ask Talia if she loved her. Because the answer was a yes, in so many complicated ways. Talia had more love in her body in a single hour than most did in their lives, Stephanie knew. It was simply not _understood_ , by most.

And love was only a by product, of what Stephanie wanted. A little faith, a little belief, that she was capable. Someone to look at her and not question if she could do whatever task she had given herself- simply wanted to see _how_ she would do it.

“You’re my pit mother, after all,” Stephanie added, as Talia traced her knuckles along Stephanie’s cheek, before her hand turned to cup her face, to rub the scar. “Your Diamondback goes wherever you wish her to.”

Talia smiled, the kind that was white as bleached fangs, and Stephanie hoped that one day, she would teach her that exact smile.


End file.
